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THE    COUNTRY    BOY 

The  Story  of  His  Own  Early  Life 


BY 

HOMER  DAVENPORT 

AUTHOR   OF    **MY   QUEST   OF  THE   ARAB   HORSE ' 


EMBELLISHED  WITH  SIXTY-TWO  ILLUSTRATIONS 
MADE  FROM  HIS  ORIGINAL  DRAWINGS 


G.     W.     DILLINGHAM      COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS NEW    YORK 


Copyright^  1910,  By 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


V 


ex 


DEDICATED 
TO    THE  SACRED 
MEMORY  OF    MY 

MOTHER 

AND 

TO  MY  DAUGHTER 

GLORIA 


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PREFACE 


This  book  deals  with  just  an  ordinary  boy, 
brought  up,  however,  among  people  and  con- 
ditions that  were  not  ordinary.  This  little 
town  of  Silverton  and  the  neighborhood  around 
it  were  made  up  of  men  and  women  who  had 
left  the  best  sections  of  the  Eastern  States 
to  go  West  that  they  might  avoid  the  Rail- 
roads and  conditions  that  followed  them. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem  one  of  the  early  settlers 
of  Silverton  had  moved  from  Connecticut  to 
Illinois  to  get  away  from  the  railroad,  and 
later  from  Illinois  to  Oregon,  and  finally  died 
in  Silverton  without  ever  having  seen  a  rail- 
road train.  Such  a  statement  might  mislead 
some  people  into  thinking  that  the  man  was  a 

5 


6  PREFACE 


crank,  but  that  was  not  the  case.  On  the  con- 
trary he  was  a  man  of  distinctive  type,  of  much 
nobility  of  purpose,  that  had  just  happened 
in  his  early  youth  to  imagine  that  he  would 
not  like  railroading.  And  the  people  that 
followed  his  example  were  people  of  good 
blood  and  in  some  instances  of  high  education 
and  all  in  all  they  made  up  a  fine  average  com- 
munity. More  than  likely  many  small  towns 
in  New  England  two  hundred  years  ago  were 
like  Silverton  was  twenty  years  ago,  but  a  town 
like  Silverton  was  then  would  be  hard  to  locate 
nowadays,  and  the  Silverton  of  to-day  is  in 
few  respects  like  the  fine  old  dignified  town  of 
even  1885.  They  were  the  pioneers  and  the 
first  generation.  To-day  it's  different.  The 
old  Silverton  was  given  a  certain  dignity  by  a 
very  large  and  remarkably  shaped  old  oak  tree 
that  stood  in  the  center  of  the  Main  Street; 
how  old  it  was  no  one  knew  but  it  had  been 
the  shade  for  the  Molalla  and  Santiam  Indians 
for  unknown  generations  and  was  more  than 
likely  in  the  direct  route  of  these  Indians  who 
went  to  and  fro  from  the  Council  of  the  Great 
Multnomah  Tribe  on  the  Columbia  River 
prior  to  the  falling  of  "the  bridge  of  the  Gods." 


PREFACE 


The  old  oak,  as  everybody  called  it,  was  a 
stately  giant,  and  the  early  settlers  of  Silver- 
ton  looked  a  fitting  people  to  group  them- 
selves under  it  and  around  it,  and,  as  I  have 
said,  it  was  the  superb  character  of  both  men 
and  women  that  made  Silverton,  the  old  town, 
so  distinctly  different. 

The  tree  and  town  were  nearly  all  destroyed 
once  by  fire.  A  merchant  named  Alex  Ross 
let  a  lighted  candle  brush  against  his  beard 
and  from  his  whiskers  the  blaze  leaped  madly 
into  the  lace  curtains  of  his  store  window  and 
one  of  the  handsomest  city  blocks  was  soon 
burnt  to  the  ground.  The  town  then  got  a 
hook  and  ladder  company,  and  a  fire  brigade 
was  organized  with  a  tower  and  a  fire  bell  on 
top  of  it.  Years  passed  and  passed  and  the  fire- 
men grew  older  and  less  attentive  at  the  annual 
fire  drill.  The  fire  department  consisted  of  a 
hose,  hook  and  ladder  wagon  with  some  fine 
axes  with  gilding  on  the  blades,  some  long 
leather  buckets,  a  long  hose,  and  some  fire  hel- 
mets. Some  ten  years  after  the  first  fire  an- 
other broke  out,  in  the  old  brick  store ;  possibly 
from  a  cigar  stub  as  a  man  was  seen  smoking 
one  that  day  in  the  store.     At  any  rate  the  old 


8  PREFACE 

store  was  first  to  burn.  The  department  was 
hard  to  arouse  as  the  fire  started  at  2  a.  m.  or 
thereabouts.  Dr.  Davis  was  awakened  by  the 
glare  of  hght.  He  thought  he  had  overslept 
and  that  it  was  sun-up.  Fully  awake  he  ran 
to  ring  the  fire  bell,  but  little  by  little  the 
farmers  had  cut  off  the  rope  to  tie  their  teams 
till  it  was  out  of  the  doctor's  reach.  He  threw 
rocks  at  the  bell  but  was  nervous  and  excited 
and  only  hit  it  once,  so  resorted  to  yelling 
"Fire!"  on  the  principal  streets  until  his  voice 
gave  out.  Silverton  was  noted  as  a  place  to 
get  sleep  and  rest  in  and  the  doctor  was  winded 
and  hoarse  before  he  awoke  many  of  the  old 
settlers.  They  found  the  hose  gone,  some  one 
had  borrowed  it  to  irrigate  his  garden;  the 
leather  buckets  were  all  gone.  We  had  had 
one  in  our  parlor  for  years  with  moss  and 
"everlasting  flowers"  in  it  as  an  ornament,  and 
the  only  things  they  found  to  fight  the  flames 
with  were  three  of  the  company's  fire  helmets, 
and  these  came  in  handy  to  keep  off  the  heat, 
as  a  whole  row  of  wooden  buildings  were  on 
fire,  to  say  nothing  of  50,000  cedar  shingles, 
and  it  was  nearly  noon  before  the  fire  burned 
itself  out  when  it  came  to  the  sparse  settlement. 


PREFACE 


But  the  backbone  of  the  town  was  there  yet  and 
the  pioneers  were  not  all  gone.  They  would  go 
on  determined  not  to  be  stopped  by  a  fire.  In 
fact  bluffs  seldom  got  away  with  much  there, 
and  I  can  cite  one  instance  that  was  truly  Sil- 
verton  in  every  sense.  A  "Campbellite"  minis- 
ter by  the  name  of  Clark  Braden  came  there 
to  conduct  a  revival  meeting.  He  was  a  man 
of  quite  some  force  and  reputation,  and  a  big 
quiet  audience  greeted  liim  at  his  first  hearing. 
He  got  on  all  right  until  near  the  close  when  he 
issued  a  sweeping  challenge  to  any  infidels  or 
free  thinkers  to  debate  with  him  in  Silverton. 
His  utterances  had  hardly  cleared  his  beard 
when  ten  men  at  least  were  on  their  feet  asking 
him  if  he  would  debate  with  Robert  G.  Inger- 
soll.  The  preacher  said  "yes  with  him  or  any 
of  his  disciples."  The  meeting  broke  up  with 
much  excitement  and  promise,  and  within  a  few 
hours  quite  a  long  telegram,  the  longest  ever 
sent  out  of  Silverton  was  on  its  way  East  to 
Col.  Ingersoll,  and  before  long  a  brief  one 
returned  saying  that  jVIr.  B.  F.  Underwood 
was  on  a  train  for  Silverton  as  a  representative 
of  Col.  Ingersoll  to  debate  for  ten  days  with 
Rev.  Clark  Braden.     They  were  to  speak  every 


10  PREFACE 

evening,  each  man  having  one  hour's  time. 
That  was  typical  of  the  early  founders  of  Sil- 
verton.  No  admission  was  charged,  and  the 
occasion  was  carried  on  with  much  dignity 
until  the  last  evening's  debate  when  somebody 
started  something,  and  when  it  was  over 
several  of  the  best  families  in  town  were  on 
terms  unbecoming  to  neighbors;  but  even  this 
only  lasted  a  few  months  and  all  the  differ- 
ences of  a  stormy  night  had  passed.  The 
manhood  and  womanhood  that  had  brought 
them  together  during  the  hardships  and  trials 
of  a  pioneer  life,  in  the  covered-wagon  days, 
had  brought  about  a  brotherhood  that  was 
after  all  too  strong  a  bond  to  be  broken  by 
even  religious  whims  and  differences,  and  they 
were  soon  back  together  as  one  big  family.  All 
men  and  women  who  in  their  higher  spiritual 
selves  were  even  more  religious  in  the  truer 
form  than  the  minister  that  had  started  the 
trouble,  they  were  genuinely  under  the  atmos- 
phere and  living  in  it  that  the  old  blind  Arab 
poet  described  in  his  verse  written  during 
the  eleventh  century  and  saying,  "when 
young,  my  friends  I  would  defame,  if  our 
religious  faiths  were  not  the  same,  but  now 


PREFACE  11 


my  soul  has  traveled  high  and  low,  now  all 
save  love  to  me  is  but  a  name,"  I  only  cite 
this  incident  as  it  was  so  typical  of  the  place 
and  went  to  show  that  the  older  pioneers  of 
Silverton  could  start  on  short  notice  without 
even  a  rehearsal.  But,  oh,  how  I  loved,  and 
still  love  Silverton. 

I  could  never  expect  to  find  another  such 
community.  Where  else  could  one  find  a  firm 
like  Coohdge  and  McClaine,  starting  in  part- 
nership without  a  bookkeeper.  They  never 
even  kept  a  pencil  account  of  things.  When 
Jake  McClaine  saw  his  partner  with  a  new  pair 
of  pants  on,  whether  he,  McClaine,  needed  any 
or  not,  he  took  from  the  store  a  pair  just  to 
balance  the  books,  and  that  was  their  method. 
They  played  fair  with  each  other,  starting  with 
some  calves  they  bought  in  the  fall  of  the  year, 
and  from  that  deal  this  firm  grew  and  grew 
until  now,  incorporated  into  a  stock  company, 
it  is  one  of  the  biggest  on  the  Pacific  Coast; 
and  when  "call  money"  rents  for  big  premiums 
in  New  York  City,  money  that  started  in  Sil- 
verton with  these  pioneer  bankers  comes  in 
large  quantities  to  Wall  Street  to  reap  the 
benefit   of  the   quick  loan  system.     But  the 


12  PREFACE 


Silvertonites  of  old,  Coolidges,  McClaines, 
Davis's,  Browns,  DeGuires,  McGuires,  Smiths, 
Tuggles,  Blackerbys,  Hibbards,  Riches,  Wol- 
fards,  Skaifes,  Drakes,  Ramsbys,  Huttons, 
Thurmans  and  Simerals  are  getting  thinned 
out,  and  in  their  places  new  faces  from  the 
middle  west  and  south  are  coming.  The  first 
generation  were  not  the  stuff  of  their  parents ; 
conditions  had  changed,  some  of  the  younger 
men  wxre  bigger  business  men  than  their 
fathers  yet  they  lacked  a  lot  of  a  certain  kind 
of  character  that  made  the  fathers  more  in- 
teresting than  any  of  their  sons.  The  railroad 
and  interurban  trolleys  change  the  conditions 
of  things  greatly,  and  Silverton  has  been  no 
exception  to  this  rule.  The  departure  and 
arrival  of  the  old  Salem  stage  used  to  be  an 
event,  more  than  the  trains  coming  and  going 
to-day,  but  to  me  Silverton  will  always  remain 
the  same  with  no  other  memory  second.  I 
remember  well  my  first  impression  of  Silver- 
ton.  I  had  come  to  town  with  my  father  and 
grandmother  Davenport.  It  must  have  been 
when  I  was  between  four  and  fixe  years  old. 
We  were  stopping  at  the  Coolidges',  father 
had  gone  on  beyond  Silverton  to  survey  for 


PREFACE  13 


Scott  Hobart,  and  in  the  evening  of  a  great 
day,  as  grandmother  and  "Aunt  Frank" 
Coohdge  sat  rocking  and  visiting  on  the 
back  porch,  I  got  their  permission  to  go  on  to 
the  sidewalk  some  distance  from  their  big 
house.  I  remember  I  was  all  dressed  up  with 
new  little  boots  that  had  copper  toes.  I  fol- 
lowed the  sidewalk  to  the  old  covered  bridge 
and  finally  ventured  through  it,  and  there  saw 
a  great  city  for  once  without  grandmother 
holding  me.  I  was  in  a  trance  of  delight 
w^atching  it,  when  a  big  handsome  man,  named 
Marshall  Dudley,  came  up  to  me  and  in  a  bass 
voice,  said:  "Are  you  so  and  so."  I  said, 
*'yes."  "What  then  are  you  doing  in  Silver- 
ton  alone?  You  get  back  to  Aunt  Frank 
Coolidge's  as  hard  as  you  can  run."  I  did 
and  found  to  my  horror  that  I  had  bumped 
a  copper  toe  off  one  of  my  new  boots  some- 
where enroute. 

From  that  moment  Silverton  has  always 
been  to  me  the  greatest  city  in  the  world.  I 
saw  in  it  that  evening  a  dignity,  possibly 
radiating  from  the  giant  oak  tree,  that  no  other 
place  ever  could  have.  Its  people  were  so 
kind,  its  stores  filled  with  such  good  things. 


14  PREFACE 


and  the  scenery  back  of  it  so  beautiful.  And 
the  roar  of  the  water  falling  over  the  JNlill 
Dam  gave  it  a  thrill  never  to  be  forgotten 
by  me.  For  years  it  held  me  in  that  trance. 
It  inspired  me  to  draw  pictures,  and  day  after 
day,  month  after  month  I  used  to  draw  its 
people  on  the  smooth  surface  of  the  pine 
boxes  that  brought  dry  goods  to  the  town, 
and,  strangely,  many  of  them  I  mounted  on 
fiery  Arabian  steeds,  and  the  strangest  part  of 
Silverton  is  that  it  never  releases  me  a  day 
from  its  hold.  A  day  never  passes  that  I  don't 
hurry  over  its  streets  and  see  its  last  remaining 
pioneers,  and  in  my  vision  replace  those  that 
have  gone.  I  yet  hear  the  roar  of  Silver 
Creek  as  it  pours  like  a  sheet  of  silver  over  the 
Mill  Dam  below  the  "old  red  shop";  then 
again  I  see  it  each  day  as  the  years  go  by  as  I 
first  remember  seeing  it  the  evening  I  lost  the 
copper  toe  from  the  new  boot.  I  have  thought 
of  it  while  seated  in  the  ruins  of  the  Coloseum 
at  Rome,  thought  of  it  in  London  and  Paris 
and  Constantinople,  thought  of  it  while  rest- 
ing in  the  death-like  silence  of  the  shadow  of 
the  Sphinx,  and  told  of  it  near  the  Euphrates 
River  in  Arabia,  while  among  the  wild  tribes 


PREFACE  15 


of  Anezeh.     Even  left  its  paper,  "The  Silver- 
ton  Appeal,"  among  that  tribe. 

I  have  told  people  of  this  little  town's  beau- 
ties till  the}^  have  yawned  and  finally  left  in 
disgust,  yet  it  holds  me  with  a  something  that 
I  cannot  describe.  Strangely  I  find  that  I 
have  forgotten  all  the  many  rainy  days,  the 
boyhood  fights  and  the  neighbor  quarrels. 
They  with  the  petty  pains  and  pangs  of  life 
have  been  forgotten,  and  while  I  know  that 
some  of  my  expressions  of  love  for  this  little 
tow^n  have  been  misunderstood  by  the  new^r 
and  younger  generation,  yet  I  am  certain  that 
the  pioneers,  the  men  and  women  that  belong 
to  the  old  oak  tree,  have  all  seen  in  every  word 
I  have  ever  written  or  line  I  have  ever  drawn 
pertaining  to  Silverton  and  the  farmers  around 
it,  nothing  but  love.  All  the  attention  I  have 
drawn  to  it  in  the  past  and  any  I  may  in  the 
future  was,  will  be,  to  benefit  Silverton.  My 
only  regret  is  that  we  couldn't  have  remained 
always  the  same  as  we  were  before  the  big  oak 
tree  was  chopped  down,  as  that  tree  seemed  to 
fit  into  our  landscape  better  than  open  or 
paved  streets  do.  The  tree  seemed  to  be  a 
center  of  dignity  around  which  w^e  could  build. 


16  PREFACE 


a  tree  with  stories  beyond  the  first  white  man 
it  ever  saw;  and  many  a  day  when  I  have 
watched  the  leading  citizens  playing  marbles 
in  its  extensive  shadow,  I  have  thought :  How 
many  are  the  interesting  stories  you  could  tell, 
of  ages  passed  when  you  saw  the  beautiful 
deer  and  other  wild  game  gather  at  your  base, 
of  the  great  pride  you  must  have  felt  when 
the  old  cock  grouse  hooted  from  your  moss 
covered  limbs  in  the  early  breaking  of  spring 
and  of  the  interesting  councils  of  war  which 
painted  Indians  in  ancient  days  convened  un- 
der your  spreading  old  limbs.  Who  knows 
but  what  the  great  Snohomish,  the  chief  and 
orator  of  the  Santiams,  made  your  shade  a 
stopping  place  going  up  the  Columbia  to  the 
great  council  ?  At  last  you  saw  the  first  white 
man  and  his  ox  team  approach,  and  later 
make  treaty  and  trade  and  war  with  the  In- 
dians ;  and  at  the  very  last,  you  find  you  have 
been  chosen  as  the  center  around  which  men 
and  women  of  the  finest  type  build  a  beauti- 
ful little  city  that  for  a  time  nestled  under 
your  very  branches  for  protection.  You 
grew  and  spread  and  at  last  as  a  mother  that 
had  walked  the  floor  nights  with  her  babe. 


PREFACE  17 


cared  for  it  in  storms,  furnished  a  cool  shade 
for  it  in  summer,  were  now  in  the  way.  Your 
hmbs  had  tried  to  chmb  into  the  upper  window 
of  one  of  your  children's  stores.  That  was 
enough,  a  new  element  had  come  to  town  on 
a  railroad,  to  make  Silverton  like  other  towns, 
so  the  giant  tree  heard  its  fate  from  a  jury 
that  were  strangers.  The  tree  might  have 
called  for  help,  but  its  real  friends,  the  old 
pioneers,  were  away.  Some  of  them  each  pass- 
ing year  had  been  driven  by  it,  across  the  old 
covered  bridge  never  to  return,  and  others  were 
out  of  town  on  their  adjoining  farms.  The 
giant  oak,  the  tree  that  had  the  beautiful  stories 
to  tell,  was  voted  "guilty"  and  was  slain.  That 
evening  as  its  huge  branches  were  divided 
among  the  town's  people,  a  small  party  of 
big  men  gathered  at  the  stump  of  the  tree. 
They  were  mad  men  and  sad  men  as  they  real- 
ized that  Silverton  had  to  change,  that  a  newer 
element  with  higher  collars  and  smaller  hats 
was  in  command.  INIany  of  their  best  and 
bra\^st  citizens  had  already  gone  beyond  the 
call  of  human  voice,  others  w^ould  soon  follow, 
and  the  tree,  being  one  of  them,  had,  also, 
made   obeisance    to    the    demand    of    society. 


18  PREFACE 

fashion  and  wealth.  From  that  day  the  dig- 
nity of  Silverton  began  to  wane.  Thus  I 
shall  not  wonder  after  I  write  of  and  draw 
the  beauties  of  dear  old  Silverton,  as  I  have 
done  in  this  book,  if  by  some  I  am  misunder- 
stood; but  I  shall  never  desert  Silverton;  it  is 
my  home  and  always  will  be.  To  me  the  old 
oak  tree  always  stands  and  under  it  the  men 
play  marbles.  The  pioneers  and  their  families 
that  made  it  so  full  of  character  are  still  in 
their  prime  of  life,  the  first  beautiful  girl  I 
ever  saw  is  still  there  just  as  beautiful  as 
ever,  and  in  the  streets  I  yet  hear  the  latest 
marches  by  the  old  Silverton  band,  the  stores 
are  still  aglow  with  rich  beauties.  That's  why 
I  love  it  so  dearly  and  that's  why  it's  yet  home 
to  me. 

Homer  Davenport. 

New  York,  June  17,  1910. 


THE  DIARY 
OF  A  COUNTRY  BOY 


CHAPTER  I 

It  was  getting  late  one  evening  on  the  farm 
in  the  Waldo  Hills,  Oregon ;  we  were  all  sitting 
around  the  fireplace ;  it  was  fall,  and  while  not 
cold,  it  was  very  damp.  Father  had  been  to 
town  that  day  and  he  was  discussing  with  my 
stepmother  and  my  grandmother  the  advis- 
ability of  going  to  Silverton  to  live.  He  said 
that  every  time  he  went  to  town  lately  Tom 
Welsh  wanted  him  to  move  down  and  take 
charge  of  the  Grange  store. 

It  was  a  great  evening,  if  it  was  rainy.  I 
got  out  of  Grandmother's  lap  and  turned  to  the 
hired  man  and  said,  "Just  think  of  it,  we  are 
going  to  Silverton  maybe,  to  live  right  in  the 
heart  of  the  town."  Finally  I  had  to  go  to 
bed,  though  I  wasn't  a  bit  sleepy  and  I  don't 
remember  of  sleeping  a  wink  that  night,  but  at 

19 


20 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


the  first  excuse  of  daylight,  I  was  up  and  off 
to  the  neighbors  and  relatives  to  tell  them  the 
news.  It  had  stopped  raining,  and  was  as 
clear  and  beautiful  as  could  be.     I  stood  up  on 


a  rail  fence  and  looked  all  over  the  country  for 
miles  around  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  over 
the  landscape  I  knew  so  well ;  in  fact,  the  only 
one  I  knew.  I  could  hear  the  bell  on  the 
engine  at  Salem  twelve  miles  away,  so  clear 
was  the  atmosphere.     Although  early  in  the 


THE  COUXTllY  BOY  21 

morning,  my  chapped  feet  didn't  hurt  me  as 
usual,  so  from  one  uncle's  house  I  went  to  an- 
other and  around  until  I  had  told  all  my  cousins 
that  we  were  going  to  Silverton  to  live,  that 
I  was  sorry,  I  hated  to  leave  them,  but  the  de- 
mand was  great.  The  city  was  calling  for  us 
and  we  would  perhaps  have  to  go. 

At  Grandmother  Geer's  I  found  Grand- 
mother Daven]3ort,  who  had  beat  me  over. 
She  was  old,  but  as  spry  as  a  sixteen-year-old 
girl.  As  the  two  grandmothers  stood  side  by 
side  on  the  porch  as  I  approached,  I  thought 
of  what  two  perfect  women  they  were.  The 
earth's  surface  could  have  been  combed  and 
two  finer  types  of  womanhood  could  not  have 
been  found.  As  I  had  no  mother,  these  two 
old  ladies  had  reared  me,  and  in  a  way  they 
seemed  more  like  mothers  than  grandmothers. 

Up  to  this  time  the  feeling  of  delight  had 
made  it  possible  for  my  bare  feet  just  to  touch 
the  high  places,  but  here  at  Grandmother 
Geer's  things  took  on  a  serious  aspect.  I 
yelled  to  them,  "Halloa,"  as  I  was  opening  the 
old  gate  that  led  past  the  big  yellow  rose  bush, 
and  all  they  did  was  to  let  their  heads  lop  over 
on  the  one  shoulder  and  smile.     When  I  came 


22 


THE  COUNTRY  BOl 


closer  and  drew  a  long  breath.  Grandmother 
Geer  said,  "  Homer,  you  and  Grandma  aren't 
going  to  leave  me,  are  you?"  All  I  did  was 
to  nod  and  ask  her  if  she  had  any  cookies,  when 


Grandmother  Davenport  broke  down  and  com- 
menced to  sob.  Finally  we  all  sat  down,  I  with 
the  cookies  and  the  rest  with  long  faces. 
Granny  Geer  said,  "Well,  Grandpa  will  get 
rid  of  all  the  chickens  if  you're  going,  we  won't 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


23 


have  any  one  to  hunt  eggs,  and  no  one  to  go 
with  me  to  dig  dandeKon  greens ;  and  we  won't 
see  any  boy  riding  the  old  red  bull  to  the  State 
Fair  again,  will  we,  Grandma?"  Then  they 
both  broke  down  and  cried.  "But  I'll  come 
up  and  gather  the  eggs  for  you,  it's  only  five 
miles,"  and  I  told  her  maybe  we  wouldn't  go 
until  spring  anyway,  and  things  had  become  so 
sad  by  this  time  that  I  thought  I  had  better 
go  on  to  the  next  neighbor's;  so  I  left  them 
with  their  heads  on  each  other's  shoulders,  say- 
ing something  in  low  tones. 

In  a  few  days  father  returned  again  from 
Silverton  and  said  he  had  promised  that  he 

would  take  the  Grange 
store  in  the  spring.  It 
seemed  as  though 
winter  would  never 
pass;  it  actually  lasted 
years.  We  talked  of 
nothing  else  during  the 
evenings,  and  I 
thought  of  nothing 
else,  dreamed  of  noth- 
ing else  during  the  nights.  Finally  as  spring 
opened  we  thought  of  Old  John,  a  big,  fat. 


24  THE  COUNTRY,  BOY 

round  bay  horse  with  knowing  brown  eyes.  In 
fact,  he  was  one  of  the  family ;  all  of  us  except 
my  own  mother  and  father  had  learned  to  ride 
and  drive  with  Old  John,  as  had  all  the  neigh- 
bors' children.  It  wouldn't  do  to  take  him  to 
Silverton,  as  he  was  afraid  of  covered  bridges 
and  bass  drums,  and  they  had  one  of  each  in 
that  place. 

Father  didn't  want  to  leave  the  farm  he  had 
chosen,  of  all  the  wilds  of  Oregon,  in  1851. 
But  my  stepmother  knew  it  was  the  only 
thing  to  do  especially  for  my  art  education, 
which  had  already  begun.  I  heard  Father  and 
jNIother  in  arguments,  and  heard  Father  say 
that  the  city  was  no  place  to  teach  art ;  that  art 
was  most  in  evidence  in  the  country,  especially 
such  a  country,  but  w^omen  always  win,  so 
later  in  the  spring  my  father  sold  the  most 
beautiful  farm  I  ever  saw  that  we  could  move 
to  Silverton,  a  town  of  three  hundred  inhabi- 
tants; that  I  might  live  in  the  Latin  Quarter 
of  that  village,  and  inhale  any  artistic  atmos- 
phere that  was  going  to  waste. 

Old  John  was  left  at  Grandma  Geer's  with 
their  Old  Charley,  a  horse  nearly  as  old  but  not 
half   as   smart.     When   the   folks   moved   to 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


Silverton  they  left  me  in  the  hills,  after  all,  till 
my  school  was  over,  and  I  stayed  with  Grand- 
mother and  Old  John,  who  didn't  understand 
it. 

I  rode  him  to  Silverton  a  Sunday  or  two,  but 
we  both  felt  strange.  In  the  pasture  we  were 
at  home,  but  the  noise  of  Silverton  and  strange 
horses  and  boys  and  girls  didn't  make  us  feel 
just  right.  I  knew  Alvin  JNIcClaine,  and  one 
or  two  others,  and  everybody  knew  Old  John, 
and  most  of  them  were  glad  we  were  coming. 
Alvin  told  me  what  we  would  do  when  I  came 
to  town,  but  Old  John  had  to  be  left. 

He  had  grown  up  in  our  family,  Father 
got  him  when  he  was  an  orphan  colt,  and  my 
own  mother  made  a  pet  out  of  him.  He  was 
smart.  He  used  to  get  into  the  milk -house 
and  drink  up  all  the  milk.  When  he  had  done 
that,  you  could  always  find  him  in  canyon  pas- 
ture. It  was  the  farthest  away  from  the  house. 
He  could  open  any  gate  that  farmers  made, 
and  they  made  the  best ;  he  could  even  open  the 
doors  to  the  house. 

Up  to  the  time  of  my  mother's  death,  in 
1870,  he  belonged  exclusively  to  her,  and  she 
had  taught  him  to  return  from  Salem  alone,  a 


26 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


distance  of  twelve  miles,  with  the  buggy,  and 
never  was  the  vehicle  injured.  They  used  to 
take  his  bridle  off  and  tie  a  card,  explaining, 
on  the  back  band  of  his  harness,  so  that  if  he 
met  strangers  they  wouldn't  stop  him,   and 


those  who  knew  him  only  spoke  to  him  and 
smiled  as  he  passed.  Sometimes  if  he  struck 
a  good  patch  of  clover  in  the  fence  corner,  he 
would  be  a  little  late  whinnying  at  the  gate; 
but  he  never  failed.  Once  on  his  return  he 
made  the  philosopher  of  the  place  think,  as 
he  came  home  with  pond  lilies  in  the  floor  of 
the  buggy.  There  were  no  ponds  or  streams 
in  the  Waldo  Hills  containing  pond  lilies,  nor 
were  there  any  in  Salem,  and  it  required  deep 
thought. 

He  had  gotten  home  so  late  that  the  only 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  2 


evidence  they  had  were  the  Hlies  and  scum 
from  some  pond,  but  the  next  morning  they 
found  he  had  been  in  mud  up  to  his  barrel; 
then  they  solved  the  problem.  They  had  sent 
him  away  from  Salem  without  water;  the 
horse,  knowing  of  Lake  Labish  on  the  lower 
road,  eight  miles  out  of  his  way,  went  there; 
its  banks  are  steep  and  the  bottom  is  very 
muddy,  so  the  weight  of  the  buggy  on  the 
slippery  banks  pushed  him  in  when  he  went 
to  drink.  So  he  swam  in  a  half  circle  to  get 
back  out,  the 
floor  of  the 
buggy  picking 
up  the  pond 
lilies  on  the 
swim. 

He  was  a 
smart  old  fel- 
low; in  fact,  he 
and  Father 
were  the  thinkers  of  the  place;  it  was  on 
him  I  learned  a  lot,  and  between  him  and 
the  ground  I  learned  a  lot  more.  I  remember 
one  awfully  dark  night  I  grew  more  than  at- 
tached to  him;  it  was  my  duty  to  get  up  the 


28  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

sheeji,  and  that  particular  day  I  had  been 
playing  so  hard  I  forgot  them.  I  was  asleep, 
when  they  woke  me  to  find  out  if  I  was  sleep- 
ing, and  then  they  asked  if  I  had  washed  my 
feet;  I  was  certain  I  had,  but  on  bringing  a 


candle  it  proved  that  I  was  mistaken  as  to  the 
date.  While  I  was  sitting  with  just  the  ends 
of  my  toes  in  a  basin  of  cold  well  water,  try- 
ing to  get  up  courage  enough  to  shove  in  the 
whole  foot,  Father  happened  to  think  of  the 
sheep  and  he  called  out,  "Are  the  sheep  up?'* 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  29 

I  had  forgotten  them.  It  was  dark  and  I 
heard  an  owl  screech  up  in  the  orchard.  Shed- 
ding tears  didn't  save  me,  I  w^as  ordered  to 
the  barn  to  get  Old  John.  I  had  both  hands 
clenched  tight  in  his  mane.  I  knew  he  was 
tracking  the  sheep.  Presently  from  out  the 
dark  ahead  I  could  hear  the  bell;  then  I  knew 
that  they  would  start  straight  for  the  barn, 
which  they  did.  Once  back  in  the  stall  I 
hugged  Old  John,  the  tears  on  my  cheeks  had 
dried  with  fright,  and  after  a  footbath  I  was 
in  bed,  safe  from  an  awful,  dark  night,  a 
coj^ote,  and  some  barn  and  timber  owds. 

But  Old  John  and  I  had  some  pleasant 
times;  our  associations  were  not  all  ghastly. 
In  the  summer  we  used  to  buck  straAV  from 
the  threshing  machine;  when  there  were  pic- 
nics I  used  to  braid  his  mane  and  tail  the  day 
before.  Then  when  I  rode  to  the  picnic  with 
his  kinky  mane,  both  of  us  used  to  enjoy  it, 
and  he  especially  seemed  to  know  how  pretty 
he  looked.  But  some  way  he  was  always  so 
glad  to  get  home;  he  didn't  seem  like  another 
horse,  he  just  seemed  like  one  of  the  family, 
and  the  only  time  it  took  a  man  to  handle  him 
was  when  we  went  to  the  State  Fair  at  Salem. 


30 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


When  we  got  within  half  a  mile  of  the  fair 
grounds,  where  he  could  hear  the  boom  of  the 
bass  drum  in  the  distance,  he  turned  into  a  wild 
horse;  his  ears  were  ever  in  motion  then  and 


2    /^/.T^ 


his  hazel  eyes  had  the  sparkle  of  an  Arab's. 
He  would  try  to  cramp  the  buggy  and  get 
home,  and  at  the  State  Fair  it  was  always  best 
to  lead  him,  as  he  pranced  all  the  time.     But 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  31 

he  was  not  mean ;  he  didn't  hke  state  fairs,  that 
was  all.  He  and  I  stayed  at  Grandma's  until 
just  before  I  left  to  go  to  Silverton.  Old  John 
had  been  turned  out  on  what  we  called  "The 
Snake  Hill  Pasture,"  and  there  he  and  Old 
Charley  were  spending  their  last  days.  He 
was  past  twenty,  as  sound  as  a  dollar,  his  only 
fault  being  that  he  was  a  little  too  fat  and  lazy. 
Grandfather  had  been  over  to  the  pasture  to 
put  out  some  squirrel  poison ;  it  was  on  Sunday, 
the  last  Sunday.  I  was  to  go  to  Silverton  that 
afternoon.  At  the  dinner  table  Grandfather 
spoke  of  the  queer  actions  of  Old  John;  said 
that  he  acted  strange,  that  he  first  noticed  him 
whinnying  long  and  loud;  then  he  would  stop 
and  listen,  first  with  one  ear  forward,  then  with 
the  other.  His  eye  had  a  sparkle  that  it  never 
had,  except  at  a  state  fair,  and  he  seemed 
nervous.  "He  came  to  me  and  nosed  at  all 
my  pockets,  to  see  if  I  had  salt  for  him;  then 
he  would  try  to  play ;  colthood  seemed  to  return 
to  him,  but  in  the  midst  of  his  play  he  would 
stop  and  call;  he  would  even  try  to  look  at  the 
sun,  and  when  I  came  to  the  bars  to  come 
away,"  said  Grandfather,  "he  came  along  and 
didn't  want  to  be  left.     When  I  looked  back 


32 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


from  the  crest 
of  the  hill,  I 
could  see  him 
driving  the  stock 
gently  from  one 
shade  to  an- 
other." Grand- 
mother, who  had 
been  quiet  all 
this  time,  said, 
"I  can  tell  you 
what's  the  mat- 
ter with  Old 
John ;  he  wants 
to  see  Homer 
before  he  leaves 
this  afternoon 
for  Silverton.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  but  that's  it,  so  you  must  go 
over  before  you  start  and  say  good-bye  to  your 
old  pardner,"  said  Grandma,  as  she  passed  the 
pumpkin  pie.  "I  expect  when  I  see  you  get 
into  the  buggy,  I'll  feel  as  bad  as  old  John, 
and  may  act  just  as  strange." 

I  went  over  alone  after  dinner  to  say  good- 
bye to  my  old  friend  and  tried  to  cheer  him  up. 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  33 

I  pulled  some  volunteer  oats  and  took  them  to 
give  him,  also  some  burnt  cookies  Grandmother 
gave  me,  as  he  always  liked  something  sweet. 
It  was  as  perfect  a  day  as  you  ever  saw,  the 
sky  was  very  high  and  blue  and  there  was  just 
enough  breeze  blowing  to  move  the  leaves  on 
the  trees.  As  I  came  to  the  pasture  I  was 
slightly  disappointed  that  Old  John  wasn't  at 
the  bars  to  meet  me.  I  could  see,  however,  all 
the  stock  up  under  a  large  spreading  oak  that 
stood  on  top  of  the  small  rise  we  called  "Snake 
Hill."  A  lark  was  singing  on  top  of  a  tree — 
singing  as  if  the  yellow  spot  on  his  throat 
would  burst.  I  didn't  see  Old  John,  but  saw 
Old  Charley,  the  yellow  horse,  standing  with 
his  head  down.  Cattle  stood  close  and  more 
than  a  hundred  sheep  stood  silently  by.  Some 
small  lambs  were  playing  on  a  log  near,  just 
as  small  children  might  play  at  a  funeral. 
As  I  came  closer,  I  saw  in  the  shade  of  a 
mighty  oak.  Old  John  lying  dead.  It  seemed 
to  be,  and  undoubtedly  was,  understood  by 
everybody  but  the  young  lambs  that  there  was 
a  funeral  in  progress.  The  yellow  horse  stood 
partly  over  him  with  his  nose  resting  on  the 
dead  horse's  shoulder.     His  big  brown  eyes 


34 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


were  open  but  were  not  focused  on  any  one 
particular  thing.  They  were  blank  and  ex- 
pressionless, but  his  body  was  still  warm.  I 
sat    against   the    big    round   back    that   had 


carried  me  after  the  sheep  so  many  dark  nights 
and  I  thought  of  the  picnics  we  had  gone  to, 
and  I  fondled  the  mane  I  used  to  braid  for  the 
gala  occasions.  I  could  see  the  faint  scars  of 
the  collar  and  tuers  tliat  had  been  left  when 


THE  COUNTBV  BOY  35 

years  ago,  he  had  helped  father  clear  up  the 
landscape  of  a  pioneer  farm.  I  saw  him  as  my 
own  mother's  pet  that  grew  to  be  the  mis- 
chievous rogue  that  got  into  the  pantry  and  ate 
up  all  the  pies  and  drank  the  milk,  and  then 
hid  in  the  back  pasture.  I  saw  him  in  the  days 
my  sister  Orla  rode  him  to  the  Fourth  of  July 
celebration,  where  the  bass  drum  and  the  plug 
uglies  made  him  prance  for  miles,  and  I 
thought  of  him  as  the  friend,  even  the  philoso- 
pher, the  teacher  of  children,  and  everything 
that  a  perfect  horse  could  be.  And  it  seemed  a 
fitting  occasion,  if  he  had  to  die,  to  die  on  such 
a  perfect  day,  the  very  kind  of  a  day  he  used 
to  enjoy  most. 

I  was  some  time  getting  away  from  the 
scene  and  when  I  got  to  the  house  and  ex- 
plained the  delay,  it  affected  them  all,  even  to 
the  hired  man,  who  didn't  like  Old  John  be- 
cause he  got  lazy  in  his  old  age. 

But  in  the  afternoon,  we  hitched  up  to  go  to 
town  where  I  was  to  stay.  I  didn't  have  any 
baggage,  only  a  rooster  that  I  had  for  a  pet. 
Grandmother  had  been  snuffing  a  lot,  since  she 
heard  of  Old  John's  death.  She  said  that 
when  I  went  away  to  Silver  ton,  she  might  not 


36 


THE  COUNTRYi  BOY. 


see  me  again,  but  she  went  puttering  around 
from  one  room  to  another,  fixing  up  something 
in  a  bundle.     Finally  she  came  to  say  good- 


bye and  brought  a  pumpkin  pie,  a  pair  of 
heavy  wool  socks,  and  a  handkerchief,  which  I 
needed  right  then.     When  we  drove  out  past 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  37 

the  barn  where  the  big  Balm  of  Gilead  tree 
stood,  that  had  been  my  mother's  riding"  whip 
once  w  hen  she  rode  on  Old  John,  she  broke  off 
a  branch  for  me  to  smell  of  the  swxet  fragrant 
leaves,  on  the  way  to  Silverton.  Grandfather 
and  I  ate  the  pie,  w^e  were  afraid  it  w^ould  get 
shaken  up  and  dusty.  When  we  got  to  town 
and  saw  all  the  folks  we  made  them  all  sad  by 
telling  them  of  Old  John. 

We  all  went  down  to  the  store,  and  it  seemed 
fine  to  stand  behind  the  counter  and  play  clerk, 
but  as  evening  came  on  and  Grandfather  went 
home,  it  didn't  seem  so  good.  I  didn't  see  any 
boys;  everything  w^as  strange,  but  our  own 
folks;  but  it  was  great  to  know  w^e  w^ere  there 
and  w^e  lived  there,  and  to  see  the  farmers'  boys 
come  in,  and  know  you  were  one  of  the  town 
boys.  It  seemed  like  a  year  to  the  next  w^eek ; 
when  I  saw  Grandfather  in  town  I  ran  to  him 
and  he  said,  "Your  grandma  said  I  should 
bring  you  home  with  me,  she  wanted  you  to 
hunt  the  eggs  for  her."  I  told  him  to  ask 
Father.  So  when  he  got  ready  to  go  in  the 
evening,  he  drove  around  in  the  buckboard 
while  I  held  the  horse.  I  saw  them  talking 
in  the  back  part  of  the  store,  and  heard  them 


38 


THE  COUNTRY  EOT 


say  something  about  its  only  having  been  a 
week;  then  they  laughed;  Grandpa  came  out 
and  said,  "Yes?' 

We  drove  through  the  big  covered  bridge 


toward  the  Waldo  Hills,  five  miles.  On  the 
way  we  planned  to  fool  Grandma;  I  was  to 
get  out  at  the  barn  and  slip  along  the  picket 
fence,  and  hide  in  the  yellow  rosebush  near  the 
gateposts,  and  I  did.  So  when  Grandma  came 
out  to  open  the  gate  she  said  to  Grandpa,  "I 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


39 


thought  I  told  you  to  bring  Homer  back  with 
you."  As  Grandfather  drove  through,  he 
said,  "Yes,  but  since  he  went  to  town  last  week 
he  is  changed,  he  ain't  the  same  fellow  that 
used  to  hunt  eggs  for  you;  in  fact,  he  didn't 
want  to  come;  he's  got  in  with  the  boys  there, 


and  he's  forgotten  us;  in  fact,  I  hardly  knew 
him."  By  this  time  Grandpa  had  begun  to 
unhitch  the  horse  and  he  had  overdone  it; 
Grandmother  had  put  her  apron  over  her  eyes 
and  her  shoulders  began  to  shake,  when  I  dove 
out  of  the  rosebushes,  so  it  scared  the  horse, 
that  I  forgot  wasn't  in  on  the  job,  and  instead 


40  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

of  it  being  a  great  joke,  like  Grandfather  and 
myself  thought  it  would  be,  instead  we  all 
broke  down  and  cried.  Afterward  I  went  all 
over  the  place  before  dark,  gathered  all  the 
eggs  and  found  three  new  nests,  and  that  night 
we  popped  corn  and  ate  apples,  and  I  told 
them  all  about  Silverton  and  how  strange  a 
j)lace  it  was.  In  a  few  days  I  went  back  to 
town.     Then  I  got  better  acquainted. 

I  was  big  enough  to  help  clerk  in  the  store, 
but  wasn't  what  you  would  call  a  safe  clerk.  I 
used  to  clerk  while  Father  went  to  dinner. 
Mrs.  Francis,  a  woman  just  out  of  Silverton, 
used  to  be  a  regular  customer  of  ours ;  she  came 
one  day  and  I  sold  her  a  yard  of  gartering; 
after  that,  for  a  long  time  she  didn't  trade  with 
us.  Father  met  her  on  the  street  one  day  and 
asked  her  why  and  she  told  him.  She  took 
from  her  satchel  a  small  piece  of  gartering,  ex- 
pecting to  meet  him  she  was  prepared  to  ex- 
plain. She  said,  "There's  what  your  son  sold 
me  for  a  yard."  Father,  a  thoughtful  person, 
took  the  gartering,  which  didn't  measure  more 
than  ten  inches.  The  two  went  to  the  store  and 
found  it  measured  just  a  yard,  if  you  stretched 
it  to  its  limit.     JNIrs.  Francis  was  given  some 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY. 


41 


ro;?tr 


new  gartering 
and  some  candy 
to  take  home 
to  the  children, 
and  was  soon 
back  on  the 
books  again. 

Silverton  is 
located  on  Sil- 
ver Creek,  fif- 
teen miles  east 
of  Salem.  The 
stream  runs 
through  the 
middle  of  the 
town  and  is 
crossed  by  o  n  e 
of  those  home- 
like old  covered 
bridges  that  bear  all  the  latest  posters,  social, 
theatrical  and  agricultural,  including  the  lost, 
strayed  or  stolen.  There  was  every  class  of 
people  in  Silverton  but  negroes;  there  were 
Chinamen,  and  Indians  lived  there  in  small 
numbers;  but,  for  some  strange  reason,  no 
coons.     The  founders  of   Silverton  were  all 


42  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

old  pioneers  that  came  mostly  in  1851,  and 
most  of  them  came  from  Ohio  and  Illinois. 

No  city,  no  matter  what  size,  could  have  the 
glare  and  good  times  that  the  people  of  Silver- 
ton  enjoyed.  But  the  main  population  were 
highly  educated  people,  and  very  prosperous, 
as  they  are  to  this  day.  The  population  still 
varies,  owing  to  what's  coming  off  in  town. 

They  had  formed  a  brass  band,  but  it  hadn't 
done  very  well.  They  had  home  talent  shows 
and  debating  societies,  and  several  lodges  and 
a  few  saloons,  but,  above  all,  Silverton  had 
among  its  population  lots  of  great  characters; 
men  of  great  learning  and  wide  experience, 
who  spent  most  of  their  time  plajdng  marbles, 
and  month  after  month  I  kept  from  hard  work 
under  the  pretext  that  I  was  studying  the 
character  of  the  people  of  a  town  of  three  hun- 
dred. 

My  father  was,  and  is  now  at  eighty-three,  a 
man  of  the  highest  form  of  education,  a  philos- 
opher, a  musician,  a  teacher,  and  above  every- 
thing, a  man.  Considering  that  we  had 
sacrificed  country  life  for  the  city,  he  wanted 
to  take  advantage  of  the  few  advantages  the 
city  afforded  that  the  farm  didn't;  so  I  started 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


taking  music  lessons  of  "Aunty"  McMillan. 

She  wasn't  my  aunt — no  relation — but  she  was 

vxry    stout   and 

chunk  y,    and  #  ^^f 

wore  curls  with 

a  high  polish  on 

them,  and  most 

always  you  call 

that        kind 

"Aunty."      She 

had    gotten    so 

stout   she   could 

n't      play      the 

difficult      pieces 

any  more,  those 

you    reach    one 

hand  across  the 

other    to    play. 

She  just  taught 

and     told     how 

she  used  to  play. 

We  paid  her  in 

fresh    milk    for  ^'^  ^  e 

the    lessons    she 

gave  me,  so  that  if  I  failed  as  a  Paderewski, 

Father  wouldn't  be  out  ready  money. 


44  THE  COUNTRY.  BOY^ 

The  method  she  taught  was  like  all  really 
great  inventions — it  was  simple ;  and  I  have  to 
smile  now  when  I  think  that  no  one  thought  of 
it  before.  It  was  better  perhaps  for  a  transient 
teacher  to  teach  than  one  regular  in  the  city — 
in  fact,  it  took  a  brave  person  to  buy  property 
and  settle  down  on  such  a  method.  The  first 
day  I  came  with  a  quart  of  warm  milk;  that 
is,  I  started  with  a  quart  of  milk,  but  the  side- 
walks were  very  poor  in  Silverton  then.  I 
reached  her  home  and  prepared  for  the  lesson. 
She  gave  me  a  sort  of  a  lecture  first  on  music, 
said  that  it  had  come  to  stay,  that  it  would  soon 
be  counted  as  a  part  of  every  first-class  educa- 
tion, and  that  it  got  easier  as  one  progressed. 
Then  she  produced  a  large  music  book  with 
the  notes  all  numbered.  The  keys  of  her  organ 
w^ere  numbered,  and  then  with  an  indelible 
pencil  she  numbered  my  finger  nails,  and  I  took 
the  stool;  and  while  she  counted  time  with  a 
short  smooth  pointer — "One,  Two,  Three, 
Four,"  I  began  to  get  in  touch  wdth  the  various 
numbers ;  and  as  I  w^as  fairly  good  in  numbers 
up  to  seven,  I  progressed  so  rapidly  that  after 
the  second  lesson  she  gave  me  a  chance  on  a  re- 
duced course  in  classical  music,  which  was  to 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


45 


come  later  on.  If  you  got  a  certain  number 
of  these  chances  it  reduced  the  price  half. 
As  we  paid  in  milk  it  meant  for  the  big  set  of 
lessons  I  would  only  bring  one-half  as  much  as 
I  should  have  had  to  do  had  we  bought  them. 

Father  had  sold 
out  the  store  on  ac- 
count of  my  clerk- 
ing and  w^as  survey- 
ing a  good  deal,  and 
working  with  deeds 
and  legal  papers 
some.  He  asked 
me  how  I  got  on  at 
the  music  and  I 
simply  smiled  and 
showed  him  the 
tickets,  "Reward  of 
JNIerit"  printed  on 
them,  and  he  was 
really  too  proud  to 
enter  into  a  conver- 
s  a  t  i  o  n.  A  f  e  w 
days  later  I  saw  him  talking  with  "Aunty" 
JVIcMillan,  and  I  could  see  she  was  prais- 
ing me,  as  Father  was  having  trouble  with 


46 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


his  eyes.     He  never  could  bear  to  hear  good 
said   about    his    children,    he  was    so   tender 


hearted;  and  I  guess  the  people  knew  it,  be- 
cause they  never  told  him  much.  Other  people 
in  Silverton  thought  I  Avas  nothing,  because  I 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  47 

drew  pictures  and  took  music  lessons,  while 
the  other  boys  worked,  and  because  Father  was 
so  well  educated  and  I  was  foot  in  the  class  and 
still  taller  than  the  rest  in  the  same  class;  but 
they  never  took  into  account  that  regardless 
of  height  wx  were  of  the  same  age.  Finally 
"Aunty"  McjMillan  got  up  a  musical  concert 
by  her  pupils,  the  proceeds  to  go  to  buy  a  new 
organ  for  the  church.  She  played  the  old 
organ  in  the  church ;  she  could  do  that,  as  it  was 
slow  time  and  plain  music.  I  was  to  play  first 
in  the  big  musical.  I  came  first  on  the  program, 
and  there's  where  the  error  of  her  life  w^as 
made,  as  in  coming  to  the  Town  Hall  after 
milking  the  cows  I  got  the  numbers  that  she 
had  put  on  my  nails  late  in  the  afternoon  wet, 
and  they  had  blurred  and  slipped,  and  I  didn't 
notice  it  until  she  led  me  out  and  seated  me; 
then  she  backed  into  the  wings  and  spoke  in 
low  tone,  "Watch  your  nails  carefully."  It 
was  the  first  public  appearance  I  ever  made. 
Naturally,  a  fellow  gets  a  little  rattled,  and 
when  I  looked  at  my  hands,  the  numbers  were 
most  all  gone.  She  yelled,  "Look  at  your 
nails,"  so  I  finally  said,  "INIy  numbers  have 
slipped,"  and  the  audience  in  general,  and  my 


48  THE  COUNTRY,  BOY 

father  in  particular,  wanted  to  know  what  the 
nails  had  to  do  with  it;  in  fact,  he  suggested 
that  I  quit  looking  at  my  hands  and  look  at 
the  book;  so  when  she  explained  her  new 
Eastern  method,  they  broke  up  the  meeting, 
and  "Aunty"  MclVIillan  left  town  on  the  early 
stage  and  hasn't  been  a  resident  of  Silverton 
since.  It  was  some  time  before  the  town  got 
over  the  musical  shock  it  gave  them. 


CHAPTER  II 

The  old  brass  band  hadn't  done  well  and  the 
organization  of  a  new  band  was  talked  of 
around  the  post-office.  The  old  instruments 
were  brass  and  had  the  old-fashioned  rotary 
valves,  and  the  strings  kept  breaking.  The 
town  thought  we  should  have  a  new  band, 
nickel-plated  instruments  with  the  late  piston 
valves.  As  it  would  advertise  the  town,  and  so 
long  as  the  band  didn't  play  would  give  it  an 
up-to-date  appearance,  the  wealthier  citizens 
contributed,  but  notwithstanding  my  exhibi- 
tion and  failure  at  the  McMillan  musical 
demonstration,  they  let  me  in,  and  I  played 
the  snare  drum,  because  it  was  the  easiest  to 
carry.  Our  instruments  came,  and  the  town 
nearly  went  wild  over  them,  and  we  began 
practicing  every  night  in  the  band  hall.  We 
got  thirty  dollars  to  go  and  playj  at  ordinary 
picnics,  and  you  came  and  got  us  in  a  wagon 
with  flags  on  the  side  of  the  box.  We  played 
along  for  a  few  months  this  way,  and  then  we 

49 


50  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

thought  of  uniforms.  We  wanted  something 
that  would  distinguish  us  from  the  common 
herd.  As  it  was,  unless  you  carried  your  horn 
or  drum  all  day  at  a  picnic,  they  couldn't  tell 
us  from  the  rest  of  the  farmers,  which  reflected 
on  the  city.  So  again  we  levied  a  tax  on  the 
citizens,  and  some  of  them  moved  out  of  town 
to  escape  it,  but  under  the  head  of  education 
they  contributed  according  to  their  means,  as 
their  property  that  lay  in  town  would  be  en- 
hanced in  value  by  the  uniforms. 

We  began  to  receive  large  booklets  of  uni- 
forms, shown  on  handsome  young  men  with 
pink  cheeks.  Ralph  Geer  was  the  only  mem- 
ber of  our  band  who  looked  like  the  lithographs, 
so  after  a  long  discussion  we  picked  out  the 
ones  that  were  on  the  fellow  that  looked  like 
Ralph,  and  ordered  seventeen  assorted  uni- 
forms, second-hand,  from  Lyon  &  Healy,  of 
Chicago.  They  were  supposed  to  be  all  sizes 
between  such  and  such.  The  colored  pictures 
of  them  showed  them  to  be  a  beautiful  light 
blue  gray,  with  red  stripes  down  the  pants  leg, 
and  the  coat  was  a  long  cutaway,  with  three 
rows  of  big  brass  buttons  on  the  chest,  and 
large  red  epaulettes  on  the  shoulders,  and  a  lot 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  51 

of  red  and  gold  braid  on  the  coat  tails  and 
collars.  The  caps  were  high  and  leaned  for- 
ward, with  a  short  straight  stiff  brim  and  a  red 
plume  went  in  the  front  and  top  of  the  cap. 

.There  wasn't  much  sleeping  done  after  the 
money  order  left  town.  The  whole  town  sat 
around  the  post-office  stove  and  wondered 
whether  they  would  steal  the  money  order  or 
not,  but  we  kept  it  as  much  of  a  secret  as  pos- 
sible the  day  the  money  left. 

There  wasn't  a  man  in  town,  or  a  drummer 
that  came  to  town  that  could  figure  accurately 
how  long  we  would  have  to  wait.  After  the 
order  had  been  gone  about  a  week,  I  hung  out 
at  the  depot  and  watched  for  the  train  that  was 
due  at  noon  each  day,  but  each  day  the  express 
messenger  said  he  hadn't  seen  or  heard  any- 
thing of  them.  Father  finally  came  to  me  and 
said  that  the  whole  town  thought  the  reason  I 
hung  around  the  depot  was  to  get  the  first 
dive  into  the  uniforms  when  they  came.  Of 
course  he  knew  different.  He  knew  it  was  be- 
cause the  musical  strain  ran  so  strong  in  our 
family,  but  the  town  in  general  was  about 
ready  to  accuse  me  of  crowding,  so  he  said, 
"You  go  now  out  in  the  hills  and  I'll  let  you 


52  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

know  when  they  come."  I  knew  when  I  left 
the  depot  that  it  was  suicide,  but  there  was 
nothing  else  to  do,  so  I  went.  A  few  days  later 
I  saw  a  man  driving  fast  over  the  country  road 
through  the  hills,  and  knew  it  wasn't  the  doc- 
tor's rig — it  must  be  the  band  uniforms  had 


^^^Z^^'^ 


come;  so  I  left  the  gap  in  the  fence  I  was 
watching  for  a  man  and  ran  to  town,  and  found 
that  they  had  been  there  two  days ;  father  had 
been  out  of  town  surveying.  When  the  people 
saw  me  they  left  their  stores  and  houses  and 
went  with  me  to  the  depot.     I  asked  them  if 


THE  COUNTRY^  BOY 


53 


they  looked  like  the  pictures,  and  they  said, 
"Just  exactly,  onlj-  finer."  I  was  astonished  to 
hear  that  the  others  had  all  taken  theirs  and  left 
only  one  for  me  to  choose  from.     I  had  never 


seen  uniforms,  only  in  catalogues,  and  once  at  a 
circus,  and  never  had  had  any  on  except  I  wore 
once  Father's  Good  Templar  Lodge  regalia 
for  a  few  minutes.  They  had  come  in  a  big 
box,  and  this  one  suit  and  cap  was  all  that  was 


54  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

left  in  the  box.  I  took  it  out  and  held  it  up 
against  me,  and  the  crowd  laughed,  while  I 
saw  nothing  to  laugh  at.  I  could  see  that  the 
man  who  cut  it  didn't  especially  have  me  in 
mind,  so  to  pacify  the  mob  I  stepped  into  the 
trousers,  and  I  think  I  took  one  or  two  more 
steps  before  either  pants  leg  moved.  This 
suit  they  had  left  for  me  was  cut  to  fit  a  man 
five  feet  six,  that  weighed  tw^o  hundred  pounds 
at  least,  and  who  didn't  carry  much  of  his 
weight  in  broad  shoulders.  I  stood  six  feet 
one,  and  w^eighed  one  hundred  and  thirty-five. 
I  put  on  the  coat,  and  John  Wolfard  yelled 
from  the  crowd  and  asked  if  the  epaulettes 
didn't  go  on  my  shoulders.  I  told  him  on  horn 
players  they  did,  but  on  drummers  they  always 
folded  just  across  his  bosom.  The  coat  tails 
struck  the  calves  of  my  legs.  Fortunately 
there  was  a  big  fold  at  the  bottom  of  the 
trousers,  and  much  gray  cloth  that  could  be 
taken  out  of  the  back  of  the  coat,  and  with 
these  remedies  it  got  to  fit  pretty  well.  All  of 
the  pants  had  to  be  made  over  anyway,  as  they 
were  not  spring  bottom,  which  was  all  the  rage 
then,  so  we  had  them  cut  that  way.  Of  course, 
our  popularity  grew  quickly  with  these  clothes, 


THE  COUNTRY  BOl 


55 


and  half  of  the 
young  fellows 
in  the  band  got 
married  that 
winter,  while  the 
gilt  braid  was 
yet  new,  and  be- 
fore the  moth 
holes  that  were 
in  most  of  them 
got  together. 
Our  prices 
jumped  from 
thirty  up  to 
fifty,  and  you 
still  came  and 
got  us,  and 
brought  as  many 
of  us  away  from 
the  celebration  as  you  could  find. 

There  was  but  one  Democrat  in  Silverton, 
and  he  was  one  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  He 
hadn't  said  much  for  years — just  paid  his  bets 
regularly  every  four  years  without  much  back 
talk — but  that  fall  when  Grover  Cleveland 
was  elected  for  the  first  time  Jake  IMcClaine's 


56 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


voice  lasted  about  half  an  hour.  Then  he  wrote 
what  he  wanted  to  tell  you  on  a  slate.  He 
wrote  to  the  leader  that  he  wanted  to  defray  all 
of  the  expenses  of  the  entire  band  to  Portland 
the  next  Saturday  night,  where  they  were  go- 
ing   to    give 


Cleveland  a 
b  i  oj  Demo- 
c  r  a  t  i  c  rally, 
and  have  elec- 
t  r  i  e  lights. 
Of  course,  we 
accepted,  as 
Jake  M  c- 
C  1  a  i  n  e  had 


and 


^r^^'  y       ments 
uniforms  than  any  other  man  in  town. 

We  had  to  leave  Silverton  at  three  o'clock 
Saturday  morning,  and  go  in  a  "dead-ax" 
wagon  twelve  miles  to  Gervais,  so  as  to  catch 
the  morning  train  on  the  main  line  of  the 
Southern  Pacific.  I  rode  directly  over  the 
hind  axle  and  lost  the  only  gold  filling  I  ever 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  57 

had  up  to  that  time.  We  got  there  at  daylight 
and  had  breakfast  that  had  been  specially  pre- 
pared for  us,  for  which  Uncle  Jake  paid.  He 
wasn't  an  uncle,  but  like  ''Aunty"  JNIcMillan, 
was  fat,  so  everybody  called  him  in  Silverton, 
"Uncle  Jake."  We  took  the  Albany  local,  and 
by  eight  o'clock  were  in  Portland,  forty-seven 
miles  from  Silverton.  It  was  the  first  time  I 
was  ever  there  without  some  one  holding  me 
by  the  wrist,  and  it  seemed  great.  The  uni- 
forms kind  of  made  us  brave,  and  Uncle  Jake 
marched  ahead  and  we  plaj^ed  as  we  marched 
up  the  main  street,  which  was  First  Street. 
On  the  bass  drum  was  printed  in  red  letters, 
"Silverton  Trombone  Band,"  and  people 
would  yell  "Hurrah  for  Silverton!"  w^hile 
Uncle  Jake  would  answer  them  by  yelling 
"Hurrah  for  Cleveland!"  Uncle  Jake  fre- 
quently sold  cattle  to  the  butchers  there,  so  be- 
fore we  knew  it  w^e  had  stopped  in  front  of 
a  butcher  shop,  and  were  plajang  while  he  was 
in  the  back  end  of  the  shop  selling  cattle. 
From  one  butcher  shop  to  another  we  went, 
playing  all  the  time,  and  many  of  us  marching 
in  new  shoes  on  the  first  cobblestones  we  had 
ever  seen.     Finally  in  the  afternoon  w^e  bought 


58 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


a  box  of  apples  for  lunch.  The  day  was 
dark  and  cloudy.  In  front  of  one  shop  Uncle 
Jake  brought  a  butcher,  who  he  said  had 
bought  more  cattle  than  any  of  the  rest,  and 


he  wanted  us  to  play  for  this  man,  number 
eighteen  in  the  new  book.  Eighteen  in  the 
new  book  was  the  one  piece  of  classical  music 
which  we  bought  when  we  got  the  uniforms. 
The  only  difference  that  it  bore  to  the  other 
quicksteps  was  that  it  didn't  go  quite  so  fast, 
and  about  the  middle  of  the  piece  it  had  six- 
teen bars  rest  for  everybody  but  the  barytone 
player,  and  from  long  and  careful  training 
we    had    reached    a    stage    where    we    could 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  59 

play  up  to  within  a  few  feet  of  this  sixteen 
bars'  rest  and  ahnost  all  of  us  stop  simultane- 
ously, at  which  point  the  barytone  player 
would  run  a  little  scale  that  was  called  a 
cadenza,  and  we  w^ould  all  watch  the  leader's 
head  and  when  he  nodded  we  would  join  in 
and  fmish  out  the  piece.  It  was  a  pretty 
thing,  and  we  told  Uncle  Jake  we  were  hold- 
ing it  for  the  reviewing  stand,  where  we 
wanted  Cleveland  to  hear  it;  so  he  said  all 
right,  he  would  have  the  butcher  there  to  hear 
it  also.  After  marching  all  afternoon  and 
having  our  photos  taken,  the  big  parade 
started  at  eight  o'clock. 

After  marching  in  the  parade  until  nearly 
midnight  it  came  our  turn  to  stop  and  play  be- 
fore the  reviewing  stand.  Most  of  us  were 
so  sleepy  we  could  hardly  keep  our  eyes  open, 
and  the  horn  blowers  w^ere  a  sorry  lot.  Be- 
tween their  new  shoes  and  their  lips,  they  were 
about  done  up.  Their  upper  lips  hung  out  far 
and  were  purple.  They  looked  like  they  had 
all  got  into  a  bee's  nest  and  had  been  stung  on 
the  lips.  The  leader  cautioned  each  member 
that  the  supreme  moment  of  our  lives  was  upon 
us;  that  all  the  other  bands  were  present,  and 


60 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


that  he  thought  Cleveland  himself  was.  He 
said,  "Whatever  you  do,  don't  play  when  you 
get  the  sixteen  bars  of  rest;  and  you,  there, 
with  the  snare  drum,  don't  roll  out  into  that 


open  space  as  you  have  always  done  before." 
It  was  an  awful  moment.  Uncle  Jake  w^as 
still  to  be  heard  bragging  to  everybody  what  a 
piece    it    was.     Finally,    with    the    greatest 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  61 

difficulty,  the  piece  was  started.  I  thought 
I  had  a  pioneer  idea  that  they  didn't  need 
me,  and  for  fear  of  being  accused  of  breaking 
down  the  piece  in  case  they  made  a  fizzle  of  it, 
I  would  quit  as  soon  as  we  got  started — and 
did.  I  just  made  motions  without  hitting  the 
drum;  but  it  wasn't  a  new  thought,  as  nearly 
every  other  member  had  done  the  same  thing, 
so  when  we  approached  the  sixteen  bars'  rest 
the  only  one  player  was  the  leader  himself,  and 
he  had  the  tremolo  stop  out.  He  stopped  just 
as  a  large  skyrocket  went  up.  We  hadn't  been 
used  to  fireworks— that  is,  big  ones — and  the 
only  barytone  solo  anybody  heard  was  the  bary- 
tone player  yelling  to  the  man  next  to  him, 
"Look,  quick,  Tom,  at  that  skyrocket." 
Uncle  Jake  directed  the  butchers  he  had 
brought  down  to  hear  number  eighteen,  to  the 
fireworks,  and  we  never  resumed  the  piece,  and 
never  saw  each  other  until  we  met  the  next  day 
on  the  train  bound  for  home.  Aside  from  that 
one  piece  the  trip  was  a  great  musical  triumph, 
and  Uncle  Jake  was  the  hero. 

A  few  more  years  passed  studying  character, 
when  I  joined  the  Good  Templars  Lodge. 
Father  wanted  to  retire  from  it,  and  I  was  to 


62 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


take  his  place.  I  knew  them  all  on  the  street, 
but  when  my  name  was  voted  on  and  accepted, 
and  the  Saturday  night  I  was  to  take  the 
oath    came,    it    was    different.     I    went    all 


dressed  up  and  was  quartered  in  the 
outer  waiting  room.  I  had  heard  so  much 
about  riding  goats,  and  even  Father  wouldn't 
tell  me  what  they  did  to  you  there.  He  didn't 
even  go  the  night  I  joined.     All  he  would  say 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  63 

was  that  he  didn't  want  to  see  it.  The  out- 
side guard  brought  me  a  red  and  gold  regaha 
and  said,  "Put  it  on  around  your  neck." 
Then  I  waited  some  minutes  and  heard  singing 
in  the  big  lodge  room.  It  was  upstairs  over 
the  town  hall,  and  no  one  was  every  allowed 
to  peep  in  unless  he  was  a  member.  Finally 
I  heard  raps  like  a  hammer,  and  people  walk- 
ing. The  outside  guard,  who  was  one  of 
Uncle  Jake  McClaine's  hired  men,  came,  and 
I  asked  him  if  there  was  anything  to  be  afraid 
of.  He  said  he  couldn't  tell  me;  that  it  was 
against  the  rules.  I  noticed  he  had  cloves  on 
his  breath.  He  said,  "Get  ready ;  they  may  call 
for  us  any  minute."  I  asked  him  if  I  had 
mussed  my  hair  when  I  put  my  regalia  on,  and 
he  said  I  had,  slightly,  and  he  fixed  it,  and  he 
gave  me  some  perfume  to  put  on  my  handker- 
chief and  my  coat  lapel.  Presently  a  rap 
came  at  the  door,  and  a  small  peep  hole  opened, 
and  a  voice  came  in  bass,  "Who's  there?"  The 
hired  man  said  something  and  again  the  voice 
at  the  peep  hole  said,  "Admit  him."  We  were 
then  in  another  small  hall  and  the  guard  noticed 
that  every  now  and  then,  unless  I  held  my 
mouth    shut,    my    back    teeth    chattered.     I 


64  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

wasn't  cold,  quite,  but  that  feeling  that,  thank 
heavens,  you  only  have  once  in  a  lifetime,  was 
with  me.  In  another  moment  another  queer 
rap,  and  a  female  voice  asked,  "Who's  there?" 
Uncle  Jake's  hired  man  took  me  by  the  arm, 
and  said  in  a  strong,  bold  voice,  "A  brother 
wants  to  enter."  The  truth  was  the  brother 
didn't.  He  was  all  in,  and  about  out.  I 
heard  the  female  voice  say,  or  rather  sing  it, 
that  there  was  a  brother  outside  knocking  for 
admission.  Then  a  great  rustling  of  feet  was 
heard  when  the  lady  at  the  wicket  said,  "Bring 
thy  brother  in."  I  was  past  recognizing  any- 
body by  this  time,  although  the  woman  at  the 
door  turned  out  to  be  our  hired  girl,  but  I 
couldn't  recognize  her  then.  They  all  rose  and 
sang,  while  I  marched  to  the  other  end  of  the 
great  hall  and  knelt  before  a  throne;  and  a 
man  with  more  cloves  on  his  breath  and  a  more 
elaborate  regalia,  read  something  about  rum 
being  a  serpent,  and  strong  drink  was  raging. 
Another  rap  or  two  with  the  mallet,  and  then 
we  took  another  circle  while  they  sang,  and  then 
we  stopped  in  front  of  a  lesser  important  booth, 
and  there  had  more  reading,  and  another  odor 
of  cloves.     But  all  this  time  my  neck  would 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


iSo 


pop  at  any  attempt  to  get  easy  and  relax  to 
anything  like  a  natural  pose.  Finally  I  was 
escorted  to  a  table  and  sworn,  while  the  mob 
kept    singing.     They    produced   a    book;    I 


signed  and  paid  two  dollars.  Then  they  es- 
corted me  to  a  seat,  and  a  recess  was  declared 
to  congratulate  the  brother.  Even  then  I 
made  an  attempt  to  walk  across  the  floor,  and 


66  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

wouldn't  have  made  it  without  assistance. 
There  we  were  all  chums,  but,  with  the  re- 
galia, so  changed. 

After  that  about  all  we  did  was  to  buy- 
candy  hearts  at  the  post-office  that  had  read- 
ing printed  on  them:  "I  love  you,"  or  "Will 
you  be  true?"  Sometimes  the  printing  would 
be  too  strong  for  a  Good  Templar  lodge,  but 
if  it  was  we  could  always  sell  the  one  heart 
for  what  the  whole  sack  cost.  I  was  later  dis- 
charged from  this  high  body  for  sleeping  on  a 
billiard  table  in  Portland,  to  the  disgrace  of  our 
whole  family,  and  especially,  my  father. 

Easter  Sunday  to  the  country  boy  is  about 
the  biggest  thing  on  the  boards.  Easter 
itself  is  a  tame  day  compared  with  what  those 
of  the  weeks  previous  have  been.  In  the  far 
West — and  I  suppose  it's  the  same  all  over 
the  country — boys  hide  their  eggs  and  the  lid 
is  temporarily  off — that  is,  you  can  steal  an- 
other boy's  eggs  during  the  period  previous 
to  Easter  without  its  being  a  crime  punish- 
able by  parents  or  law.  In  fact,  you  can  steal 
anybody's  eggs  during  the  fortnight  previous 
to  Easter  Sunday,  and  lucky  are  those  homes 
where  there  are  enough  eggs  for  breakfast 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  67 

till  after  the  big  feast,  composed  chiefly  of 
eggs,  roasted,  boiled  and  parched  by  the  open 
fire  on  Easter  day. 

Sometimes,  if  a  boy  makes  a  bad  throw  Eas- 
ter, then  nothing  but  broken  eggs  follow  in 
the  free  fight.  But  among  the  quieter  boys 
the  worst  effect  is  acute  indigestion  from  a 
mixture  of  over-done  goose,  guinea,  turkey 
and  hen  eggs. 

The  last  big  Easter  campaign  I  took  part 
in  was  in  Silverton,  and  all  of  us  boys  in  the 
neighborhood  were  jealous  of  Joe  Welch  be- 
cause we  had  a  hunch  that  Joe  had  the  great- 
est number  of  eggs.  He  was  the  shrewdest 
of  us  all,  and  what  was  more  to  the  purpose, 
he  was  close-mouthed,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing in  his  silent  laugh  at  the  post-office  corner 
of  evenings  to  tip  us  off  as  to  just  where  his 
eggs  were  hidden.  He  had  made  several  big 
steals  from  other  boys,  and  it  was  surmised 
that  it  was  he  who  had  acquired  Warren 
Libby's  collection  of  turkey  eggs. 

Late  one  afternoon,  when  I  had  been  kept 
in  our  house  longer  than  usual  by  a  lesson  in 
arithmetic  by  my  father,  and  just  as  I  was 
starting   downtown,   I   went  to   take   a   last 


68  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

glance  at  the  place  where  my  eggs  were  hidden 
in  a  hole  under  the  barn,  when,  lo  and  behold, 
there  was  Joe  Welch  crawling  out  from  under 
our  barn  with  my  eggs  in  a  sack.  Before 
he  saw  me  I  darted  back  into  the  house  and 
watched  him  from  the  attic  window.  He 
looked  all  around,  and  then  ran  out  of  the 
barnyard,  across  the  street  to  his  own  home 
and  crawled  under  the  house  from  the  back. 
He  was  gone  for  fifteen  minutes,  and  when 
he  came  out  he  brushed  his  clothes,  looked  all 
around,  and  seeing  no  one,  went  downtown, 
whistling  a  new  tune  our  brass  band  had  just 
received  from  the  East.  I  saw  that  the  day 
was  all  mine — I  was  born  under  a  lucky  star 
— so  I  ran  and  got  a  sack,  for  I  smelled  big 
business.  Sack  in  hand,  I  crawled  under  Dr. 
Welch's  house,  and  away  up  in  the  darkest 
corner,  next  to  the  chimney,  were  the  eggs 
with  my  own  initials  on  them.  There  was  a 
big  heap  altogether,  and  it  seemed  as  if  every 
egg  that  any  goose,  turkey,  hen  or  guinea 
had  laid  in  the  neighborhood  of  Silverton  for 
the  last  year  was  there.  I  wiped  my  eyes  at 
first,  then  my  heart  began  to  beat  so  loudly 
that  I  was  afraid  ^Irs.  Welch,  Joe's  mother. 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  69 

would  discover  nie,  for  I  could  hear  her  walk- 
ing around  in  the  house  plainly.  I  got  all 
the  sack  w^ould  hold  comfortably,  also  filled 
my  hat,  and  then  made  a  trip  to  our  calf  pas- 
ture, w^here  I  hid  them  in  a  fence  corner. 

I  had  to  make  another  journey  to  get  them 
all,  for  there  were  goose  eggs,  turkey  eggs 
and  guinea  eggs,  besides  all  shades  of  hen 
eggs,  including  some  yellow  cochin  eggs  I 
knew  Joe  had  stolen  from  another  boy. 
When  I  reached  the  fence  corner  with  the  last 
load  I  got  a  shock.  The  fence  creaked,  and 
I  thought  I  had  been  discovered.  But  it  w^as 
a  false  alarm,  and  I  was  about  as  proud  as 
a  pirate  could  be  when  I  realized  that  no  one 
would  ever  look  in  such  an  out-of-the-way 
place  for  the  eggs. 

That  night  when  I  went  to  the  post-office 
Joe  Welch  had  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  that  no 
one  understood  but  me,  and  I  let  on  that  I 
was  just  as  certain  as  he  as  to  who  had  the 
most  eggs.  But  when  I  saw  him  the  next  day 
he  was  more  thoughtful — he  had  a  far-aw^ay 
look  on  his  face,  and  I — well,  I  guess  I  looked 
a  trifle  happier  than  he  did. 

I  guess  it  was  when  I  was  about  seventeen 


70 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


I  raised  a  jDup.  I  liked  him  more  than  I  did 
some  people  and  he  preferred  me  to  some  dogs, 
so  it  would  seem  natural  that  we  were  much 
alike  in  general  character. 

I  loved  him  then  and  I  love  his  memory 

now.  H  e  died 
i  n  my  lap  i  n 
Portland,  Ore., 
when  he  was 
about  six  years 
old.  Some  one 
had  poisoned 
him.  Every 
time  I  go  to 
Portland  there 
is  no  place  I 
look  on  with 
more  deep  r  e- 
gret  than  the 
spot  near  the  railroad  yards  where  he  lies 
buried. 

I  owned  this  dog's  mother  and  he  and  I  be- 
came pals.  He  was  more  than  a  dog.  He 
had  almost  human  intelligence,  but  passed  in 
a  crowd  for  a  dog.     In  that  way  he  fooled 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  71 

fleas,  as  they  stayed  on  him  in  preference  to 
me. 

I  named  him  DufF  when  he  was  a  few  weeks 
old,  and  when  I  was  at  the  Lewis  and  Clark 
exposition  in  Portland  a  long  time  afterwards 
many  were  the  people  that  came,  not  to  see  my 
exhibit  of  birds  and  horses,  but  to  talk  about 
DufF.  These  people  had  been  impressed  years 
before  by  this  rather  ordinary  looking  bull 
terrier.  Like  a  good  many  very  worthy  dogs, 
he  would  have  been  a  joke  at  the  New  York 
Dog  show. 

He  was  anything  the  crowd  he  was  with 
wanted  him  to  be.  His  early  character  in  Sil- 
verton  represented  the  local  color  of  the  town. 
As  a  result  he  w^as  more  or  less  a  clown.  He 
and  I  went  about  without  much  purpose,  and 
where  there  was  the  least  resistance — not 
meaning  that  we  tried  any  of  the  doorknobs. 
But  we  sort  of  loitered  around  at  our  leisure, 
and  in  that  way  got  to  know  each  other  very 
well,  and  incidentally  a  lot  of  other  people. 

One  Sunday  w^e  went  to  Wilhoit  Springs, 
a  mountain  resort,  where  many  prominent  peo- 
ple came  from  Portland  to  spend  a  week  or 


72  THE  COUNTRY  BOY, 

so.  The  proprietor  was  a  cross,  surly  man, 
and  his  guests  were  pining  for  something  in- 
tellectual. They  soon  found  DufF.  They 
marveled  at  his  tricks  and  his  keen  mind. 
They  said  they  washed  he  was  the  proprietor 
of  the  soda  springs. 

It  was  here  that  DufF  introduced  me  into 
the  first  real  artistic  atmosphere  I  had  expe- 
rienced. The  man  that  admired  my  dog  chum 
most  was  a  lithographer  named  WalHng.  I 
drew  pictures  for  him  on  bark  and  chips  while 
Duff  was  resting.  Mr.  Walling  told  me  that 
both  of  us  ought  to  come  to  Portland,  where 
he  was  sure  our  talents  would  make  a  hit. 

We  finally  did  go  to  Portland  after  several 
years,  and  Duff's  friends  received  us  warmly. 
I  had  expected  to  make  my  fortune  and  to 
support  DufF  royally.  But  my  drawing  was 
not  appreciated  in  Portland  as  it  was  in  Sil- 
verton. 

The  first  money  I  ever  acquired  from  art 
was  brought  in  bj^  DufF.  I  got  him  a  posi- 
tion at  the  Standard  theatre,  where  he  joined 
the  song  and  dance  team  of  Hickey  and  Clif- 
ford.    They  paid  me  $1.50  per  week  for  the 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


stunts  DufF  did  every  evening  during  their 
few  months'  engagement. 

One  rehearsal  was  all  the  dog  needed.  I 
doubt  if  any  chorus  girl's  vanity  ever  took  her 
to  the  theatre  with  more  regularity  than  this 
dog's  pride  in  his  act  took  him.  His  part  was, 
at  a  given  signal,  to  run  on  the  stage  and  grab 
Hickey  by  a  prepared  pad  concealed  under  the 
actor's  coat  tails.  Then  DuiF  was  swung 
around  and  around  hanging  by  his  teeth. 

I  sat  in  a  front  seat  every  night  and  ap- 
plauded. Sometimes  DufF  w^ould  come  to  the 
footlights  and  peek  over  at  me  and  w^ag  his 
tail.  He  turned  a  few  hand  springs  and 
jumped  rope  and  never  objected  as  to  who 
came  on  first.  This  made  him  the  most  popu- 
lar actor  with  the  stage  director. 

In  Silverton,  before  we  went  to  Portland, 
Duff  did  more  tricks  than  I  could  tell  you  of 
in  a  day's  talk.  He  carried  in  stove  wood;  he 
rode  up  on  the  hay  fork  holding  to  a  sack;  he 
sat  on  the  cowcatcher  of  the  locomotive ;  he  was 
the  retriever,  the  bird  dog,  the  shepherd,  the 
clown.  He  could  catch  a  coin  or  a  baseball 
that  was  laid  on  the  top  of  his  nose.     He  would 


74  THE  COUNTRY,  BOY 

turn  a  back  somersault  just  for  the  asking. 
iWhat  is  more,  he  understood  any  plain 
language,  the  kind  we  used  in  Silverton. 

When  I  was  an  engine  wiper  he  was  the 
watchdog  of  all  the  company's  property. 
Thus,  when  Receiver  Scott,  of  the  O.  R.  Co., 
doubted  the  dog's  ability  to  watch  the  engine 
all  night  as  he  slept  on  the  cab  seat — where 
I  ought  to  have  been,  but  was  accustomed  to 
stay  away  from  my  post  and  sleep  in  my  bed 
— DufF  attacked  the  inquisitive  receiver  who 
had  sneaked  up  in  the  dark,  and  treed  him  on 
an  old-fashioned  pump  in  the  yard  of  a  nearby 
hotel. 

A  lady  once,  when  I  was  boasting  of  Duff's 
wonderful  intelligence,  said: 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  I  can't  hide 
your  knife  where  he  can't  find  it?" 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "it  would  be  impossible." 

I  told  DufF  to  go  in  the  next  room  till  we 
hid  the  knife.  She  put  it  up  on  the  top  shelf 
of  the  sideboard,  behind  the  only  real  cut  glass 
there  was  in  Silverton. 

DufF  came  in  and  began  to  snifF  with  his 
head  up.  Before  either  of  us  had  time  to  stop 
him  he  mounted  the  sideboard,  knocking  down 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  75 

all  the  glass  and  breaking  it  and  brought  us 
the  knife. 

An  actor  finally  offered  me  $100  for  Duff. 
JNIy  father  came  to  Portland  to  see  me  about 
accepting  the  offer.  We  talked  it  over  one  day 
on  the  Stark  street  ferry.  Duff  was  with  us 
and  we  thought  he  knew  what  we  were  talking 
about.  He  looked  as  sad  as  father,  and  I  felt 
I  couldn't  bear  to  sell  him,  though  I  couldn't 
imagine  anything  that  one  hundred  dollars 
wouldn't  buy. 

Father  said  life  was  made  up  of  such  sor- 
rows and  disappointments;  that  while  nothing 
could  be  finer  than  to  spend  a  lifetime  with  a 
dog  of  such  wonderful  intelligence  and  sym- 
pathy, still  a  hundred  dollars  at  compound 
interest  at  10  per  cent,  for  twenty  years  would 
buy  so-and-so  and  so-and-so,  and  that  in  the 
professional  life  Duff  was  leading  he  might 
be  stolen. 

I  was  about  to  agree.  All  this  time  Duff 
had  stood  between  us,  his  eyes  on  the  floor.  I 
spoke  to  him  and  he  raised  his  head  slowly  and 
looked  at  father  full  in  the  eye. 

In  that  look  he  saved  us.  Father  turned  to 
me  and  said: 


T6  THE  COUXTFY  BOY 

*'  Homer,  I  guess  we  can't  sell  him." 

At  that  DufF  leaped  high  in  the  air,  bumped 
father's  hat  off  his  head,  caught  it  in  the  air 
and  ran  frisking  about  the  boat  with  it. 

No,  he  couldn't  be  sold ;  there  was  something 
in  DufF  that  showed  in  his  eyes  and  prohibited 
a  price. 

The  Silverton  Appeal  w^as  the  one  newspaper 
in  Silverton.  It  w^as  a  weekly,  that  the  editor 
told  me  might  some  time  be  changed  to  a  daily, 
if  the  town  ever  responded  to  its  encourage- 
ment ;  but  the  town  didn't  respond,  so  that  the 
Silverton  Appeal  is  still  a  w^eekly.  For  a  time 
it  got  to  look  like  it  w^ould  be  a  monthly.  The 
editor  always  set  type  and  smoked  long 
stem  pipes ;  with  big  shears  he  culled  from  every 
other  paper.  Lots  of  times  he  took  cord  wood 
for  subscriptions,  and,  after  that  system  had 
been  inaugurated  for  a  few  years,  he  ran  a 
wood  yard  in  connection  with  the  Silverton 
AjJj^eal, 

The  Appeal  was  unique  in  its  way;  there 
was  an  individuality  about  the  paper  that  one 
would  know  it  was  published  in  Silverton  and 
nowhere  else.  The  editor  was  about  as  smaii; 
as  any  man  in  town,  but  once  in  a  while  he 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  77 

got  things  into  the  paper  that  they  didn't  see 
till  they  were  printed.  I  noticed  an  advertise- 
ment once  for  a  lost  horse  that  read  as  fol- 
lows :  "Found,  a  bay  horse  fifteen  and  a  half 
hands  high,  left  hind  foot  white,  small  star  in 
the  forehead ;  any  one  describing  the  property, 
and  paying  for  this  advertisement,  can  have 
the  same  by  calling  at  my  farm." 

There  was  one  strong  opposition  to  the  Sil- 
verton  Appeal^  and  it  was  a  hard  competitor. 
It  was  the  old  covered  bridge  that  crossed  Sil- 
ver Creek,  on  Main  Street.  Sometimes  the 
old  bridge  had  more  news  on  it  than  the 
Appeal;  people  got  so  they  posted  some  of  the 
town  scandals,  and  it  always  had  more  local 
news  than  the  home  paper.  H.  G.  Guild,  who 
was  the  best  editor  the  Silverton  Appeal  ever 
had,  was  shrewd  enough  Saturday  nights, 
before  the  Appeal  appeared  on  the  streets,  to 
go  out  and  quietly  tear  down  some  of  the  big 
headlines  that  the  bridge  had  and  the  Appeal 
didn't,  and  in  that  way  the  Appeal  finally  got 
ahead. 

The  job  work  in  connection  with  the  Silver- 
ton  Appeal  was  advertised  all  over  the  bridge, 
and  throughout  the  Appeal  the  job  work  was  as 


78  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

queer  as  the  editorial  page.  One  advertise- 
ment announced  a  sale  of  Ai  Coolidge,  the 
banker.  It  appears  that  Uncle  Ai  had  got 
overstocked  with  old  harrows  and  a  mixture 
of  livestock,  and  was  going  to  sell  them  at 
auction.  The  advertisement  listed  among  the 
enumerated  stock  "one  two-year-old  yearhng 
bull." 

Of  course,  it  wasn't  the  intention  of  the 
Silverton  Appeal  to  compete  with  any  other 
paper,  and,  as  the  editor  started  the  wood  yard 
for  subscriptions,  after  that  had  run  a  couple 
of  years  it  was  frequently  remarked  that  he 
had  got  to  be  a  better  judge  of  cord  wood  than 
he  was  of  news.  But  the  people  of  Silverton 
appreciated  the  Silverton  Appeal;  they  many 
times  remarked  that  they  liked  it  lots  better 
than  the  Portland  Oregonian,  as  it  always  had 
more  home  news  in  it. 

I  used  to  drift  around  into  the  shoe  shop. 
Simeral  was  a  ball  player,  so  he  used  to  sit  in 
his  shop  and  talk  over  the  errors  of  the  latest 
games.  If  you  have  ever  sat  in  a  shoemaker's 
chair,  you  are  bound  to  admit  that  it  is  the 
most  comfortable  seat  you  ever  fell  into.  I 
used  to  sit  there  and  whittle  leather  and  talk 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


79 


with  the  shoemaker;  I  must  have  whittled 
leather  scraps  for  two  or  three  years  without 
missing  much  time.  Finally  one  day  by  mis- 
take I  cut  into  an  upper  that  was  to  be  made 


into  a  shoe  and  it  nearly  broke  up  the  shop ;  I 
couldn't  pay  for  it,  and  we  didn't  want  to  ask 
Father  to  settle,  so  I  joined  the  firm  to  get  out 
of  it. 


80  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

My  only  duty  then  in  town  was  to  get  up 
our  cows  that  we  let  run  in  the  streets  nights, 
hoping  they  w  ould  find  some  neighbor's  gar- 
den gate  open.  I  used  to  get  them  up  and 
milk  them,  but  going  into  this  firm  as  a  shoe- 
maker was  such  a  big  surprise. 

I  told  all  the  young  men  around  town  and 
some  of  the  old  ones  that  thought  I  drew  too 
many  pictures;  in  fact,  I  told  a  few  girls 
that  thought  because  I  did  not  have  pocket 
change  enough  to  take  them  to  dances,  that 
I  wasn't  much.  I  went  home  early,  didn't  tell 
Father,  because  he  didn't  want  me  to  work; 
just  wanted  me  to  study  faces  and  draw. 

I  didn't  sleep  much ;  turned  and  tossed  until 
four  o'clock,  then  got  up  and  went  to  Simeral's 
shop.  I  thought  of  the  cows,  but  didn't  get 
them  up;  in  fact,  didn't  have  time  and  didn't 
think  it  would  look  dignified.  Simeral  came 
about  nine,  and  let  me  in,  and  before  he  had 
the  key  out  of  the  door  I  was  into  a  roll  of 
red  morocco,  starting  on  some  boots  that  would 
have  sold  even  before  they  had  been  finished. 
He  came  to  me  and  said,  "Homer,  there  ain't 
a  boot  in  this  shop  I  would  trust  you  with  now, 
but  I  saw  a  feller  the  other  day  with  two  and 


THE  COUXTRY  BOY  81 

^^  hen  he  brings  them  in  they're  yours.  In  the 
meantime,  I  have  twenty  cords  of  wood  up  in 
the  alley  next  to  my  house.  If  you  will  go 
up  and  saw  that  twice  in  two  and  toss  it  up 
into  the  woodshed,  by  the  time  that's  done 
there'll  be  some  boots  in." 

Of  course  I  saw  the  peculiar  part  of  learn- 
ing the  shoemaking  trade,  but  I  had  told  so 
many  people  that  I  had  to  go.  I  had  been 
sawing  wood  about  half  an  hour,  just  long 
enough  to  be  thoroughly  disgusted  with  any 
branch  of  the  shoemaking  trade,  w^hen  I  heard 
a  familiar  cow  bell,  looked  around,  and  saw  my 
old  father  come  driving  our  cows  past  this  veiy 
woodpile.  There  w^as  no  way  to  escape,  as 
they  were  too  close.  I  thought  of  many  w^ays 
of  eluding  discovery;  perhaps  the  safest  of  the 
many  w^ould  be  to  bend  over  and  saw  w^ood, 
knowing  that  as  he  had  never  seen  me  in  that 
position,  he  would  likely  pass  on  by. 

But  the  older  and  shrewder  of  the  three  cows 
recognized  me  and  stopped,  perhaps  because 
she  saw  so  much  of  her  milk  on  my  boots.  I 
didn't  look  up,  but  kept  on  sawdng,  pulled  the 
hat  down  tighter  and  felt  strange.  I  also  felt 
Father's  hand  on  my  shoulders  and  dreaded 


82  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

for  once  to  tell  him  the  truth,  as  it  sometimes 
hurts.  He  said,  "Homer,  will  you  please  tell 
me  what  has  happened?  Have  you  had  any 
trouble  at  home?  Speak  up  plainly."  *'No," 
I  said,  '^nothing  wrong  there."  "Then  tell 
me  what  this  strange  departure  means.  I  got 
up  early,  called  you,  and  you  were  not  in  your 
room.     Tell  me  just  the  plain  truth." 

*'Well,  I'm  here  learning  the  shoemaker's 
trade  of  Frank  Simeral,  and  I  started  in  to 
saw."  "You're  what?"  said  Father.  "I'm 
learning  the  shoemaker's  trade."  He  made 
me  repeat  it  till  it  sounded  ghastly,  then  taking 
me  by  one  hand  he  squeezed  it  gently  and 
affectionately  when  he  said,  "Homer,  look  me 
square  in  the  eye."  I  thought  on  that  particu- 
lar occasion  just  a  stab  over  the  shoulder  would 
do,  but  he  said,  "No,  right  in  the  eye.  You 
know,  don't  you,  that  I  sold  the  most  beautiful 
farm  you  or  any  one  else  ever  saw,  mainly  that 
you  might  live  here  in  Silverton  so  that  if  by 
any  chance  you  didn't  turn  out  to  be  a  cartoon- 
ist, you  couldn't  say  that  I  hadn't  done  all 
that  was  in  my  power  to  do  for  your  art  educa- 
tion. You  know  that,  don't  you?"  "Yes,"  I 
said.     "Then  do  you  think  you  are  playing  me 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  83 

fair?  Mind  you,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you 
learn  this  trade,  but  don't  you  think  you  ought 
to  have  had  the  manhood  to  come  home  and 
learn  it  of  me?  I've  got  twice  as  much  wood 
as  this  to  saw." 


CHAPTER  III 

Although  Silverton  was  situated  in  a  great 
Imnting  country  and  had  lots  of  good  shots, 
I  never  took  much  to  hunting,  perhaps  because 


I  was  a  poor  wing  shot  and  deer  were  too 
pretty  to  kill;  but  I  had  heard  of  the  great 
flocks  of  geese  and  ducks  out  on  the  coast  of 

84 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


85 


A^estucca,  so  I  went  over  to  have  a  great  hunt, 
and  the  first  day  I  was  there  I  actually  found 
a  band  of  geese  big  enough  so  that  when  I 
shot  into  the  entire  bunch  one  on  the  outskirts 
fell.  When  this  small  goose  hit  the  sand,  he 
raised  to  his  feet  and  ran,  me  after  him,  and 
after  quite  a  run 
I  overtook  h  i  m 
and  found  only 
one  wing  broken. 
I  always  had 
wanted  to  own 
live  wild  birds 
and  things,  so  I 
saw  my  chance. 
I  carried  him  to 
the  cabin  care- 
fully and  cut  up 
a  cigar  box  lid 
into  splints  and  set  his  wing  and  I  w^as  over- 
joyed to  see  an  expression  in  his  cute  little 
black  eyes  that  he  sort  o'  knew  I  w^as  trying 
to  cure  him  instead  o'  kill  him.  He  got  rap- 
idly better  and  I  started  for  Silverton  with 
him  and  there  astonished  our  family  by  the 
kindly  way  this  Hutchins  goose  let  me  doctor 


86  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

his  wing.  Father  helped  me  doctor  him  some 
and  finally  when  we  took  the  splints  off  his 
wing,  his  affection  showed  more  than  ever, 
and  to  tell  the  truth  he  and  I  grew  to  be  the 
nearest  and  dearest  friends  possible,  not  be- 
ing of  the  same  species.  He  used  to  follow 
me  all  over  the  place,  and  once  when  I  was 
sitting  down  by  him  in  the  barnyard  he  brought 
me  some  straws,  evidently  wanting  me  to  build 
a  nest.  He  was  a  great  talker  and  an  alarm- 
ist ;  he  would  come  to  me  after  I  had  been  away 
downtown  and  try  his  best  to  tell  me  what  had 
been  going  on  in  the  barnyard  while  I  had  been 
awav. 

In  fact,  he  was  my  real  chum.  When  I 
came  into  the  barnyard  mornings  when  the 
frost  was  on  the  ground,  he  would  greet  me 
all  smiles,  as  much  as  a  goose  could  smile,  then 
he  would  step  up  on  one  of  my  boots,  which 
was  quite  an  eff*ort,  and  hold  his  other  foot 
up  in  his  feathers  to  warm  it,  and  if  I  started 
to  move  he  would  chatter  and  cackle  that  pecu- 
liar note  of  the  Hutchins  geese,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "Hold  on,  don't  move,  I'll  tell  you  another 
story."  Meanwhile  he  would  warm  his  other 
foot. 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


87 


Mi^'^S''' 


When  I  went 
for  a  walk  in  the 
back  pasture,  he 
would  walk  with 
me  at  m  y  side, 
just  as  a  dog 
would  do. 
There  he  spied  a 
slight  knoll  and 
he   went   and 

stood  on  it  erect,  as  much  as  to  say,  "I'll 
watch  out  for  hunters  while  you  eat  grass  in 
peace  and  comfort."  When  I  had  finished 
my  pretext  at  eating  grass  I  went  and  stood 
on  the  knoll,  and  as  long  as  I  stood  there 
he  fed  with  perfect  confidence  that  I  was 
watching   out   for   his   welfare,   but   when    I 

walked  away  he 
ran  to  me  chat- 
tering something 
good  naturedly, 
perhaps  telhng 
me  that  he  had 
not  finished. 
We  really  had 
great    times    t  o- 


88 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


gether,  but  finally  spring  was  approaching  and 
I  had  noticed  how  he  could  fly  around  the 
barnyard.  Father  came  to  me  one  day  and 
warned  me  that  if  I  wanted  to  keep  that  goose 
I  had  better  clip  his  wrings,  but  he  said,  "I 
hope  you  won't.  You  say  that  you  love  ani- 
mals; now  show  it  by  letting  this  goose  alone, 
then  when  his  kind  come  by  in  a  few  weeks 
going  north  for  the  breeding  season,  he  will 
join  them  and  be  happier  than  he  is  here." 

I  replied  that  *'of  course  an  outsider  might 
think  he  would  leave,  but  in  reality  he 
would  not.  The  goose  and  I  have  talked  it 
over  and  he  don't  care  for  anj^thing  better  than 
I  am,  so  he  ain't  goin'  away." 

"Well,"  said  father,  "when  I  see  you  two 
together  I  think  as 
much,  but  when  you 
go  downtown  loitering 
around  with  people 
that  aren't  half  as 
smart  a  s  this  goose, 
it's  then  that  he  misses 
you,  and  it's  on  that 
account  that  I  wish 
would   leave   h  i  s 


you 


THE  COUNTRY,  BOY  89 

wings  the  way  they  are  now.  But  because 
after  he  is  gone  you  will  feel  bad  and  mope 
around  for  a  few  days,  I  thought  I  would  tell 
you  now  that  when  spring  comes  he  will  leave 
you,  notwithstanding  the  bond  of  friendship, 
so  if  you  want  him  kept  here  (which  I  hope 
you  don't)  you  had  better  cut  the  feathers  on 
one  wing." 

I  didn't  want  to  mutilate  his  feathers  so  I 
left  them  on.  A  few  weeks  later  coming  from 
one  of  those  important  trips  downtown,  they 
told  me  at  the  house  that  my  pet  had  gone.  I 
said,  "I  guess  not."  I  didn't  want  to  let  on  that 
I  w^as  alarmed,  but  when  they  were  not  looking 
I  made  some  big  strides  for  the  barnyard,  and 
it  was  actually  as  still  as  death.  I  Avhistled  but 
no  sound,  save  an  echo,  came  in  return. 

I  noticed  the  leaves  hung  silent  on  our  trees, 
though  the  neighbors'  trees  were  in  action.  I 
went  back  of  the  barn  and  called,  but  the  call 
was  wasted  on  a  few  old  hens  that  "didn't 
belong."  I  tried  to  ginger  up  some  life  into 
the  landscape  by  throwing  a  few  old  potatoes 
at  things,  but  the  brakes  were  set  in  general 
on  everything  and  I  went  into  the  house  and 
found  all  the  family  sitting  in  front  of  an 


90  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

empty  fireplace  with  long  faces.  Xo  one  spoke 
and  the  only  noise  was  the  clock,  which  ticked 
louder  than  ever.  It  was  about  dark  when 
father  arose  and  said  it  was  for  the  best,  that 
"here  in  Silverton  there  were  no  opportunities 
for  him,  in  fact  no  pond  for  him  to  swim  in 
even,  and  when  you  were  away  downtown,  no 
one  that  he  apparently  loved,  and  if  you  will 
think  of  it  a  moment,  it  w^ould  have  been  cruel 
for  you,  a  lover  of  animals,  to  have  kept  him 
here  all  of  his  life."  But  there  were  no 
answers,  just  long  breaths  now  and  then,  until 
it  was  time  to  light  a  candle.  Then  the  world 
took  on  a  brighter  aspect. 

In  a  few  days  I  recovered  with  the  rest  and 
the  long,  beautiful  spring  came.  No  rain  to 
speak  of,  and  it  was  fine.  I  never  saw  so  many 
picnics  and  never  went  with  so  many  pretty 
girls,  and  ball  games  ran  all  through  the  sum- 
mer and  the  j  oiliest  threshing  crews  you  ever 
heard  of.  Fall  came  and  I  was  hauling  wood 
into  the  barnyard  one  day  when  I  heard  wild 
geese;  lots  of  them  had  been  passing  over  for 
a  week  past,  on  their  w^ay  south  for  the  winter, 
but  presently,  just  over  the  cone  of  the  barn, 
came  some  large  bird.     I  thought  at  first  it 


THE  COUNTRY^  BOY  91 

was  a  condor;  he  lit  in  the  barnyard  and  I  was 
astonished  that  it  was  a  wild  goose.  Our 
rooster  hit  him  and  he  rose  and  circled  and 
again  lit  twenty  feet  from  me.  I  yelled  for 
the  neighbor  who  kept  guns  and  one  ran 
over,  resting  his  gun  on  the  fence  and  shot  him, 
while  I  held  fast  to  the  team.  It  was  great  to 
think  of  killing  game  right  in  your  own  barn- 
yard. I  ran  to  pick  him  up,  when  father  who 
was  in  the  orchard  yelled  at  me  not  to  touch 
him.  I  said,  "We  have  killed  a  goose  in  the 
barnyard,  a  wild  goose."  "No,"  said  he, 
"don't  handle  him;  I  want  to  feel  of  your  head 
first  to  see  if  you  have  any  bump  of  memory." 
Father  said,  "Do  you  see  that  band  of  geese  fly- 
ing in  a  circle  next  to  the  hill?  You  used  to 
tell  me  you  could  understand  this  little  goose's 
language  and  could  talk  some  of  it.  If  you 
remember  any  of  it  now,  go  out  there  as  near 
as  they  will  let  you  approach  them  and  tell 
them  they  need  not  wait  for  their  friend ;  he  is 
never  coming  back." 

By  this  time  I  had  realized  all.  I  could 
recognize  his  every  feature,  even  to  the  little 
black,  glossy,  soft  eyes,  which  were  now  half 
open.     Father  asked  if  I  saw  what  had  hap- 


92 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


pened,  and  said,  "I'll  tell  you,  as  I  believe  you 
are  too  dumb  to  comprehend.  Your  friend 
that  used  to  be  has  brought  that  band  of  geese 
five  hundred  or  a  thousand  miles  out  of  their 


beaten  course  that  he  might  bring  them  here 
to  show  them  where  a  lover  of  birds  and  things 
treated  him  so  well.  They  likely  objected,  but 
he  persuaded  and  finally  they  have  obeyed,  and 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  03 

he  left  them  there  at  a  safe  distance  and  came 
to  see  you,  and  so  perhaps  renew  his  love,  and 
there  he  lies ;  and  if  you  never  commit  another 
murder  I  hope  this  one  will  punish  you  to  your 
grave.  Some  murders  can  be  explained  to  the 
dead  one's  relatives,  but  you  can  never  explain 
this  one  and  I  want  to  show  you  his  right  wing. 
I  think  it  was  that  one  that  we  used  to  treat." 

I  didn't  want  to  see  his  wing,  but  father  was 
determined,  and  as  he  lifted  the  feathers  at  the 
middle  joint,  we  saw  a  scar,  a  knot  in  the  bone 
where  it  had  healed. 

Everybody  is  a  criminal  more  or  less,  and 
some  of  the  crimes  are  done  by  stupid  people. 
Thus  I  console  myself  in  a  way  over  the  death 
of  the  Hutchins  goose,  that  perhaps  I  am  a 
murderer  through  stupidity  and  not  by  pre- 
meditation. 

John  Wolf ard,  who  kept  and  still  keeps  the 
big  store  in  Silverton,  had  an  old  hairless  ter- 
rier dog.  I  can't  remember  when  he  wasn't 
"Old  Bob."  He  wasn't  like  other  dogs  much, 
perhaps  on  account  of  being  hairless.  The  rest 
of  the  dogs  hardly  recognized  him  as  even  a  dis- 
tant relative,  but  he  was.  Xo  telling  what 
breed  he  was  and  I  never  remember  hearing 


94 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


where  he  came  from,  but  that  doesn't  matter; 
he  was  a  terror  after  cats,  and  some  time  dur- 
ing his  Hfe  he  evidently  overtook  one  that  left 
his  or  her  mark  on  one  of  his  eyeballs ;  though 
it  must  have  been  when  Bob  was  young,  as  in 

later    life    he 
^"  only    waddled 

after  them  and 
never  got  near 
enough  to  make 
a  cat  more  than 
spit ;  but  the 
cat  evidence  on  his  eyeball  was  plain  to  be 
seen.  That  was  perhaps  why  he  was  always 
trying  to  wipe  out  the  old  grudge.  As  he  got 
very  old,  he  got  to  be  a  painful  sight  to  every- 
body but  himself.  He  had  curvature  of  the 
spine,  so  that  his  hindquarters  got  to  a  place 
about  the  same  time  as  his  forefeet  did,  and  that 
impediment,  with  the  full  scratched  eye  that 
wouldn't  close,  made  Bob  an  unpleasant  sight, 
and  even  the  Wolf ard  family  that  was  large  cut 
him  socially,  as  did  most  all  others.  He  was 
short  tailed  and  so  fat  that  it  made  him  pant 
with  his  tongue  out  to  wag  his  tail,  but  some- 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  95 

how  or  other  he  always  wagged  at  me,  not- 
withstanding the  effort. 

It  was  winter  and  raining  hard  one  night 
about  eight-thirty,  when  I  was  in  Wolfard's 
store.  John  Wolfard  was  huddhng  around 
the  store  dreading  to  make  the  dash  for  home. 
We  were  talking  about  the  opportunities  of 
Silverton  in  general,  when  he  said,  "The  trouble 
ain't  with  Silverton ;  it's  with  you  boys.  There 
ain't  any  of  you  got  any  enterprise.  For 
instance,  there  is  old  Bob.  I  don't  want  to  kill 
him  and  still  he  ought  to  be  put  out  of  his 
misery,  and  I  have  offered  any  of  you  boys 
time  and  again  all  the  crackers  and  sardines  you 
can  eat  if  Bob  disappears.  All  I  want  to  know 
is  that  he  is  gone  and  gone  for  good,  and  I 
don't  want  to  hear  the  particulars." 

I  looked  down  by  my  chair,  and  there  he  sat 
oily  and  fat,  as  sleek  as  a  seal.  I  looked  over 
behind  the  counter  where  they  kept  the  sardines 
and  they  looked  pretty  good.  I  got  up  and 
sorter  stretched,  when  John  Wolfard,  lighting 
a  new  cigar,  said,  "It's  enterprise  that  you  boys 
lack,  the  town's  all  right." 

I  went  into  the  back  part  of  the  store  where 


96  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

they  kept  the  bacon  and  a  certain  portion  of  the 
eggs  that  are  brought  to  a  general  store,  and 
the  cooking  butter.  Old  Bob  was  peeking 
around  the  chair  leg  when  I  said  "Rats,"  and 
in  a  second  he  came  grunting  through  the  door, 
trying  as  best  he  could,  for  a  dog  that  had  to 
walk  sideways,  to  be  spry.  I  went  to  lift  up 
a  big  empty  coffee  sack  and  old  Bob  dove  into 
it  hunting  some  rats  that  weren't  there.  I 
thought  at  the  time  it  w^as  his  last  rat  hunt,  but 
it  wasn't.  I  pulled  up  my  sack  and  Bob 
grunted  louder  as  he  rolled  to  the  bottom  of  it. 
I  turned  up  my  coat  collar  and  outside  I  found 
a  brick  they  used  to  block  the  warehouse  door 
open  with.  I  put  that  in  with  him  gently  and 
tied  the  sack  and  walked  across  the  wet  side- 
walks to  the  big  bridge.  Silver  Creek  was 
about  as  high  as  it  ever  got;  saw  logs  were 
running  thick  and  few  animals  besides  ducks 
or  beavers  could  have  swam  it.  I  felt  uneasy, 
still  I  felt  that  it  was  enterprise,  and  that  while 
Bob  didn't  know  it,  I  was  doing  him  and  the 
town  a  favor.  So  I  stood  on  the  first  approach 
of  the  bridge  and  swung  the  heavy  sack  over 
the  perpendicular  bank,  next  which  the  main 
current  of  the  stream  ran.     I  thought  I  heard 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  97 

above  the  roar  of  the  mountain  torrent  a  grunt, 
then  a  sickening  kind  of  a  splash,  and  it  was 
just  after  the  splash  that  I  felt  dreadful  and 
blamed  John  Wolfard.  The  dark  night  then 
frightened  me  and  I  ran  into  the  warm  store, 
and  as  I  approached  the  stove  I  said  to  the 
proprietor  who  was  there  alone,  "Open  some 
sardines  and  dig  out  some  crackers  and  put  in 
a  few  sweet  ones  for  such  a  job  as  this." 

"Now,  remember,"  said  Wolfard,  "I  don't 
want  to  know  what's  happened."  He  opened 
some  old  sardines.  I  never  have  seen  the  same 
pictures  on  cans  since,  and  he  brought  cheese 
as  well  as  crackers,  and  while  I  ate  we  listened 
to  the  pattering  rain.  A  stranger  or  two  from 
the  streets  came  and  all  commented  on  the  high 
way  I  was  living.  John  was  smoking  extra 
heavy  and  the  whole  back  part  of  the  store  was 
so  thick  with  smoke  that  you  had  to  shove  it 
away  to  get  room  to  breathe.  I  had  been  eat- 
ing about  fifteen  minutes  w^hen  I  heard  a  lick- 
ing sound  on  the  floor  by  my  chair.  Looking 
down  I  saw  old  Bob  there  licking  himself  dry. 
We  all  saw  it  at  the  same  time,  and  the  first 
thought  that  struck  me  was  to  quicken  the  pace 
of  eating  so  fast  that  w^hen  John  wanted  an 


98 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


explanation  I  was  choked  on  a  big  square  sweet 
cracker.  There  was  but  one  solution  and  that 
was  that  he  hit  the  bottom  of  the  creek  so  hard 
that  he  busted  the  sack  and  that  by  some  miracle 


he  w^as  washed  on  the  bank  at  a  point  where 
he  could  get  out,  and  all  this  done  before  he 
strangled,  as  old  Bob  couldn't  have  swam  out 
of  Silver  Creek  during  the  low  water  of  sum- 
mer, let  alone  the  high  water  of  winter.     I 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


99 


didn't  have  money  to  pay  for  what  I  had  eaten 
and  the  friendly  way  Bob  stuck  so  close  to  me  I 
did  not  want  to  show  any  more  enterprise,  so  I 
had  to  work  the  next  day  in  J.  Wolfard  Co.'s 
shingle  shed  piling  shingles  to  pay  for  a  meal 


that  wasn't  on  the  regular  bill  of  fare.  Old  Bob 
strangely  spent  the  w^hole  day  with  me,  spryer 
than  he  had  been  for  years,  and  after  that  night 
he  seemed  to  pin  his  faith  to  me  and  whenever 
I  was  downtown  he  was  always  w^ith  me  when 
I  sat  down.     He  always  got  right  in  front  of 


100  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

me  when  he  wasn't  in  my  lap  and  looked 
intently  into  my  face  as  much  as  to  say: 
".When  all  others  fail  me,  I  can  always  count 
on  you."  JMile  after  mile  he  followed  me  over 
the  poor  board  sidewalk  until  one  day  he  just 
died  of  old  age.  But  as  John  Wolfard  said, 
''Homer,  as  you  wasn't  around,  he  died  lean- 
ing towards  a  cat." 

Silverton  was  a  queer  place  socially;  while 
the  townspeople  were  all  of  one  set  and  there 
was  little  of  any  class  hatred,  the  rich  seldom 
ever  lined  up  against  the  poor.  Still  if  a  very 
beautiful  girl  came  to  town  all  of  us  boys  sort 
of  took  it  for  granted  that  she  would  turn 
us  down  if  we  did  attempt  to  take  her  any 
place,  so  no  one  ever  gave  her  the  opportunity. 
We  admired  her  and  talked  of  her  at  the 
swimming  holes  and  in  fact  everywhere  we 
met,  but  no  one  ever  had  the  nerve  to  approach 
her  with  a  proposal  of  a  "Let's  go  to  the  dance, 
or  the  party  or  the  entertainment."  We 
started  to  several  times,  but  every  time  we  got 
close  enough  to  smell  the  beautiful  odor  of  per- 
fumery our  nerve  always  went  back  on  us,  and 
as  a  result  she  wasn't  kept  out  nights  much. 
For  a  long  time  the  girls  in  town  had  been 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  101 

about  the  same  in  looks  varying  according  to 
who  had  the  colds. 

One  day  a  beauty  came  to  town  to  live  with 
some  relatives  of  hers  and  she  pined  some  time 
before  she  was  taken  out.  I  had  been  out  with 
a  threshing  crew  and  wt  moved  on  Saturday 
to  a  field  near  Silverton.  The  grain  wasn't 
quite  ripe  enough,  so  we  laid  oif  until  JNIonday, 
— an  awful  thing  to  do  in  that  country,  giving 
us  all  a  chance  to  go  into  town  and  get  shaved 
up  and  a  clean  shirt.  When  I  got  to  town 
there  was  a  lot  of  talk  on  the  streets  of  a  dance 
to  be  given  that  night  at  Egan's  Hop  House 
out  in  the  Waldo  Hills.  After  my  shave  and 
hair  cut  it  seemed  a  shame  to  waste  it;  that  I'd 
better  go  to  the  dance.  i\Iy  financial  condition 
wasn't  what  you'd  call  verv  steadv.  It  rose  and 
fell  so  that  I  couldn't  hardly  count  on  one  girl 
regularly.  But  I  started  in  where  the  most 
affection  lay  and  met  a  rather  sad  refusal. 
She  said  she  w^ould  rather  have  gone  with  me, 
but  I  hadn't  asked  her  since  early  spring,  so  she 
was  engaged  to  go  with  Harvey  Allen,  the 
leader  of  the  Trombone  Band.  I  went  down 
the  line  and  got  eleven  "mittens,"  as  we  called 
them.     Then  I  even  asked  one  young  girl  that 


102 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


had  never  been  to  a  dance  alone,  and  her  mother 
refused,  although  the  girl  was  willing,  so  I 
called  it  off  and  went  up  home  and  helped 
around  the  barn.  I  waved  my  hat  to  the  girls 
I  had  asked  as  they  drove  by  in  livery  rigs  with 

other    fellows,    and 
after  they   had   all 


gotten  out  of  town 
I  went  down  to  the 
post-office  to  get 
the  Silverton  Ap- 
peal, when  who 
should  I  meet  but 
the  belle  of  the  vil- 


la 


w  e   all 


ge,  as 
called  her  among 
ourselves.  She 
smiled  and  I 
smiled,  and  she 
asked  why  I 
wasn't  at  the 
dance.  *' W  h  a  t 
dance?"  said  I. 
"At  Egan's  Hop 
H  o  u  s  e,"  she  re- 
plied.   "Everybody 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  103 

in  town  has  gone  but  us."  When  she  said  the 
word  "us"  I  saw  a  new  world.  The  old  post- 
office  seemed  like  the  Congressional  Library, 
the  plain  glass  jars  full  of  striped  stick  candy 
began  to  look  like  Tiffany's  window;  the  to- 
bacco smoke  from  the  post-office  had  the 
odor  of  beautiful  roses,  and  I  started  to 
speak  but  my  jaws  set.  She  said  several 
things  that  I  didn't  comprehend,  and  when 
I  came  to  I  heard  her  say,  "Somehow  no 
one  asks  me  to  go  to  places  and  I  should  like 
to  go  so  well."  I  steadied  myself  by  taking 
hold  of  the  fence,  as  we  had  started  to  walk  up 
the  street,  and  I  said  that  I  was  afraid  there 
was  no  more  livery  rigs,  and  she  said,  with  the 
sweetest  voice  you  ever  heard,  a  voice  that  is 
still  r-inging,  "Can't  you  get  your  father's  old 
horse  and  buggy?"  "Oh,"  I  said,  "yes,  but 
that  ain't  good  enough."  "Good  enough,"  she 
said,  "I  thought  it  was  too  good  and  that's  why 
you  never  asked  me  to  go  in  it."  It  was  now 
dark  and  we  were  nearly  opposite  our  house. 
Old  Don,  the  horse,  was  in  the  calf  pasture 
and  the  old-fashioned  high  buggy  stood  under 
the  wagon  shed  where  it  was  sometimes  for 
months  without  being  used.     So  we  agreed  to 


104  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

slip  out  to  the  dance  and  surprise  them.  I 
told  her  I  didn't  care  much  for  such  things 
owing  to  the  crowd  that  went,  but  that  now 
I  could  see  a  dance  as  I  never  had  before.  So 
I  helped  Nettie  into  the  buggy  just  where  it 
stood  and  she  sat  there  thinking,  perhaps,  while 
I  went  to  get  the  horse.  And  you  bet  I  wasn't 
gone  long,  and  the  way  we  saluted  each  other 
when  I  returned  with  the  horse  showed  that  wx 
had  already  begun  to  get  chummy,  and  how 
much  better  it  sounded  than  to  be  distant. 
I  backed  the  horse  into  the  shafts  and  har- 
nessed and  hitched  him  right  where  he  stood, 
but  I  got  half  of  his  harness  backwards.  I 
couldn't  think  of  anything  pertaining  to 
harness,  so  when  I  got  into  the  buggy  I  drove 
out  through  the  barnyard  as  quiet  as  possible 
and  feeling  about  as  good  as  a  young  man 
ever  feels.  I  was  afraid  to  breathe  for  fear 
my  arm  would  touch  hers.  I  wanted  to  get 
to  the  dance  as  quickly  as  possible  before  any- 
body left  so  that  the  advertisement  I  would  get 
from  being  seen  with  this  beautiful  girl  would 
be  as  big  as  possible.  I  didn't  have  time  to  get 
any  candy  hearts,  or  in  fact  anything,  and  the 
perfume  she  had  on  seemed  a  fit  emblem  to 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  105 

celebrate  the  occasion.  We  talked  about  the 
weather  first,  and  then  how  backward  Silverton 
was,  and  by  that  time  we  were  out  of  town  and 
I  let  the  horse  trot.  Presently  we  ran  over 
some   rough   spot   and   the   old   sorrel   horse 


snorted  and  tried  to  run  away.  It  was  new 
actions  for  him,  so  I  got  out  and  tried  to  find 
what  was  the  matter.  The  harness  was  all 
right  but  his  eyes  were  blazing  with  fire  that 
I  could  even  see  in  the  night.  We  wondered 
why  he  snorted  and  I  got  back  into  the  vehicle 


106  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

and  we  again  started  on  a  trot.  Finally  as  we 
struck  another  rock,  the  horse  bolted  and 
between  his  snorts  we  thought  we  heard  a  flut- 
tering. I  finally  got  him  stopped  and  I  put  my 
arm  around  Nettie  before  I  thought  to  see  if 
her  cloak  w^as  in  the  wheel,  but  it  wasn't. 
Again  I  WTnt  over  the  harness  and  felt  to  see 
if  the  crooper  was  all  right.  We  couldn't 
account  for  it;  the  only  evidence  we  had  was 
that  the  horse  never  started  until  we  ran  over 
a  rock  or  some  rough  object.  So  w^e  started 
again  and  a  few  yards  when  we  struck  a  chuck 
hole  away  went  the  horse  and  I  hung  onto  the 
lines ;  then  we  discovered  what  we  had  done  and 
it  was  amusing,  as  chickens  always  had  queered 
me.  Father  had  compelled  me  some  weeks 
before  to  clip  my  game  chickens'  wings  so  they 
couldn't  roost  on  the  back  of  the  buggy  seat. 
In  my  joy  at  leaving  the  barn  I  had  forgotten 
that  my  chickens  did  roost  on  the  hind  axle  of 
the  buggy,  and  as  we  drove  out  we  took  the 
hen  roost  also,  so  that  naturally  when  we  went 
over  a  rock  or  rough  place  wdth  the  hind 
wheel,  w^e  dislodged  all  or  most  of  the  chickens 
and  they  would  catch  by  their  necks  and  flutter 
back  on  the  axle ;  thus  they  frightened  the  horse 


THE  COUNTllY  BOY  107 

that  never  even  shied  hefore  at  anything;  so 
when  I  said  to  the  handsomest  girl  in  Silver- 
ton,  "It's  chickens  roosting  on  the  hind  axle," 
she  exclaimed,  "jVo  wonder;  I  never  saw  you 
before  to-night  without  a  chicken,  and  there 
they  are  really  here  with  us  now."  I  thought 
we  had  lost  some,  as  there  were  some  missing. 
I  didn't  know  what  to  do  as  the  dance  would 
soon  be  over.  We  couldn't  leave  them  beside 
the  road  for  fear  of  skunks  or  minks.  She 
thought  we  ought  to  leave  the  chickens,  but  I 
didn't,  as  one  of  our  best  old  hens  was  in  the 
party  and  it  seemed  a  crime  to  expose  them  to 
next  to  certain  death.  If  it  had  been  day- 
light and  I  could  have  seen  the  beautiful  girl 
perhaps  I  would  have  done  differently,  but  we 
turned  around  and  started  back  home  slowly, 
as  the  tired  hens  breathed  heavily  on  the  back 
axle.  We  were  still  sitting  as  far  apart  as 
the  buggy  seat  would  let  us;  had  no  outward 
signs  of  getting  closer,  in  fact  we  were  getting 
farther  apart.  She  thought  young  men 
shouldn't  think  so  much  of  chickens,  while  I 
thought  thev  were  next  to  human.  We 
planned  another  ride  without  chickens,  but  it 
was  the  passing  of  my  short  reign  and  I  didn't 


108  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

know  it  until  it  was  too  late.  That  oppor- 
tunity that  the  late  John  J.  Ingalls  wrote  of 
was  there,  but  not  to  wait ;  and  when  it  went  it 
came  no  more.  We  got  home,  but  I  had  hurt 
her  feelings  for  chickens,  and  we  parted  with- 
out much  friction.  I  stayed  up  until  the  other 
folks  got  home  from  the  dance.  They  were 
all  more  or  less  happy,  especially  those  on  the 
back  seats.  I  told  them  I  had  been  riding 
around  all  night  with  the  belle  of  Silverton, 
but  all  they  did  was  to  laugh  and  especially  the 
girls  that  had  given  me  the  mitten. 


CHAPTER  IV 

I  WAS  in  Portland  some  time  later — was 
there  for  quite  a  while,  watching  the  sights  of  a 
growing  town.  One  day  a  fellow  with  overalls 
and  a  bucket  of  paste  asked  me  if  I  wanted  to 
work  for  a  ticket.  I  said,  "Yes,"  quick.  He 
said,  "All  right,  carry  this  bucket  while  I  bill 
the  town  for  Clara  Morris  and  I  will  give  you 
two  tickets  for  the  show."  I  asked  him  what  it 
was  and  he  said  "Camille."  It  would  be  two 
weeks  before  the  show  got  there,  so  I  took  the 
tickets  after  a  hard,  sticky  day's  work  and  went 
back  to  Silverton.  I  exhibited  the  tickets  in  the 
post-office  showcase.  They  were  the  first  Port- 
land theatre  tickets  ever  seen  there.  I  asked  a 
few  people  what  "Camille"  was  like,  but 
nobody  seemed  to  know.  Finally  one  of  my 
sisters  that  was  going  on  the  other  ticket  said 
she  knew  it  was  a  comic  oj^era  and  we  went  to 
see  Clara  JNIorris  in  "Camille"  without  a  hand- 
kerchief and  as  a  result  we  both  had  bad  colds 
into  the  next  month.     Country  people  never 

109 


110 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


use  handkerchiefs  for  but  one  purpose  and  that 
is  a  cold,  and  as  we  were  free  from  colds  at 
that  time  we  didn't  think  of  taking  any.     Oh,  I 


have  seen  some  people  use  them  to  dust  their 
hats  after  the  hippodrome  races  after  a  circus, 
but  it  is  seldom  they  are  carried  unless  they 


THE  COUXTEY  BOY  111 

are  really  needed.  So  sister  and  I  went  with- 
out any.  We  had  good  seats,  tlie  third  row  in 
the  balcony.  We  said  to  each  otlier  when  we 
got  there — it  w^as  a  matinee — that  we  bet 
it  was  a  good  show  for  every  seat  was  taken. 
It  started  off  kinder  quiet  for  an  opera  and 
without  music,  which  we  thought  was  strange, 
but  about  the  middle  of  the  first  act  the«main 
lady  fell  head  over  heels  in  love  with  a  fine,  big, 
strapping  fellow  and  it  was  fine  to  watch. 
Presently  some  old  man  showed  up,  the  father 
of  the  young  man,  and  it  appears  that  Clara 
JNIorris  had  been  in  love  before  somewhere  and 
that  seemed  to  spoil  the  game.  About  this 
time  we  got  to  snuffling  some  and  finally  Adda 
broke  down  and  cried  aloud,  and  as  she  came 
by  me  I  broke  down  too.  I  know  it  must  have 
been  bad  for  other  people  near  us,  for  some  of 
them  got  out  and  left,  but  we  wept  right  on 
just  the  same,  and  it  is  awkward  crying  in  the 
theatre  without  a  handkerchief.  I  tried  to 
check  it  between  the  first  and  second  acts  while 
the  orchestra  was  playing  and  I  told  sister  that 
I  thought  the  old  man  with  white  hair  would 
finally  let  them  marry ;  but  she  sobbed  and  said 
in  a  loud  voice  she  didn't  believe  he  would,  as  he 


112 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


looked  determined.  It  was  awful;  our  tears 
were  all  over  us,  in  fact  our  feet  were  getting 
damp  from  them.  We  broke  heavier  in  each 
act,  till  the  father  of  the  fine  looking  man  she 


wanted  to  marr}^  asked  her,  if  she  really  loved 
his  son,  to  prove  it  by  promising  never  to  see 
him  again,  and  at  that  Adda  collapsed  com- 
pletely and  neither  of  us  could  make  a  sound. 
I  turned  one  of  my  coat  pockets  wrong  side 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  113 


out  and  tried  to  use  it,  when  Clara  JNlorris  died 
just  as  the  curtain  went  down,  but  we  had 
caught  colds  from  our  feet  wet  from  our  own 
tears.  Adda's  waist,  which  was  green  surah 
silk  of  the  country  pattern,  looked  like  isin- 
glass in  a  new  stove.  After  ^ve  left  the 
theatre  we  met  a  friend  a  few  blocks  away 
who  asked  what  had  happened  to  us  and  Adda 
broke  down  and  began  to  sob.  The  friend 
thought  at  first  that  I  had  beaten  her,  till  I  told 
him  we  had  been  to  see  Clara  JNIorris  play 
"Camille."  We  got  home  the  next  day,  look- 
ing and  feeling  bad.  The  folks  asked  us 
how  it  was  and  we  told  them  it  was  fine,  but 
it  wasn't  a  comic  opera. 

The  Narrow  Gauge  Railroad  finally  came 
to  Silverton  and  then  the  town  took  a  boom 
toward  the  depot.  I  got  a  job  as  engine 
wiper  and  owing  to  father's  prominence  got 
promoted  to  fireman  on  the  oldest  engine  on 
the  road.  The  other  engine  w^as  new  and  shiny 
and  could  run  faster,  and  on  that  engine  my 
father's  pioneer  friend's  son  was  the  engineer 
and  his  fireman  was  a  halfbreed  Indian.  I 
worked  hard  for  some  months  and  dreamed 
nights  of  this  halfbreed's  bringing  me  orders 


114  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

telling  me  to  take  his  fine  engine  with  John 
Palmer,  but  month  after  month  it  only  proved 
to  be  a  dream.  As  it  was  I  had  given  up 
hope  of  ever  getting  away  from  this  rusty 
old  freight  engine.  But  one  day  at  East- 
Side  Junction,  a  small  passing  station,  one 
of  the  happiest  days  of  my  life  overtook 
me.  Our  old  train  was  the  first  in  and  we 
were  on  the  siding.  I  was  watching  this  fine 
new  Baldwin  engine  as  she  came  rolling  along 
through  Howell's  Prairie.  She  ghstened  in 
the  sun  like  a  new  plug  hat.  When  she 
stopped  I  noticed  Frank,  the  halfbreed,  shake 
hands  with  John  Palmer,  the  engineer,  and 
before  I  could  make  out  \yhat  was  the  matter 
Frank  was  walking  over  to  our  engine  with 
some  clothes  under  his  arm  and  a  piece  of 
yellow  tissue  paper  in  his  other  hand.  He 
was  sullen  and  looked  as  though  he  were 
more  than  half  Indian.  He  handed  me  the 
slip  of  paper  and  said  gruffl^%  "Well,  you 
wanted  that  engine  for  a  long  time,  go  and 
take  it."  I  read  the  paper  which  was  brief, 
but  right  to  the  point;  it  simply  said,  "Daven- 
port, fire  for  Palmer  on  No.  8."  I  went  over 
and  as  I  got  close  to  the  fine  new  locomotive 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  115 

it  looked  even  finer  than  it  had  in  my  dreams. 
Mr.  Pahner  didn't  let  on  that  he  was  glad  until 
we  got  out  of  sight  of  the  Indian,  then  we  had 
a  great  reunion.  This  new  engine  only 
burned  about  half  as  much  wood  as  the  other 
old  freight  engine,  so  there  wasn't  much  to  do 
but  sit  up  in  the  seat  and  ring  the  bell  at  road 
crossings  and  look  at  streaks  of  the  finest 
country  in  the  whole  world  and  watch  the 
grouse  and  china  pheasants  fly  off  of  the 
track.  We  got  along  fine  and  I  kept  No.  8 
looking  as  good  as  the  Indian  had  her.  Our 
only  trouble  was  that  so  many  boys  knew  me 
in  Silverton,  that  every  time  we  went  up  the 
mill  switch  after  a  box  car  of  flour,  as  this  was 
a  mixed  train,  these  chums  of  mine  used  to 
climb  into  the  cab.  Now  there  is  a  certain 
dignity  that  engineers  and  even  firemen  have 
that  is  spoiled  if  everybody  comes  piling  into 
the  cab,  especially  if  women  come  with  small 
brats,  which  they  sometimes  did.  This  worried 
Mr.  Palmer  a  lot  and  made  me  fairly  ashamed. 
The  worst  one  to  climb  in  was  a  friend  of 
mine  named  Jap  Libby.  We  were  about  the 
same  age,  only  he  had  the  most  nerve,  and  the 
mill  switch  was  so  rough  we  couldn't  run  fast 


116  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

enough  on  it  to  keep  the  farmers  from  stepping 
on.  Jap  Libby  not  only  got  on,  but  then  com- 
plained about  the  way  we  ran  the  engine. 
He  asked  JNIr.  Palmer  why  he  didn't  pull  her 
wide  open  and  let  her  tear  down  through  the 
town,  at  which  JNIr.  Palmer  would  frown.  We 
always  hated  to  see  Jap  come  worse  than  any- 
one else,  as  he  knew  the  rules  were  to  keep 
out  of  the  cab.  Still  he  didn't  mind  them; 
so  Mr.  Palmer  and  I  had  smiles  for  one  whole 
trip  when  we  heard  one  day  that  Jap  Libby 
had  left  town  for  good  to  go  over  to  Tacoma 
to  work  with  some  Chinamen  on  a  tunnel.  A 
few  days  later  we  heard  they  had  an  accident 
and  many  Chinamen  were  killed  and  Jap 
Libby  was  hurt.  This  accident  was  plainly 
the  fault  of  the  company  and  they  were 
anxious  to  settle.  Jap  was  foxy  and  when 
they  came  to  the  hospital  he  told  them  he  had 
no  desire  to  break  the  company,  that  he  was  a 
railroad  fireman  and  if  they  gave  him  a  good 
job  when  he  got  well  he  would  call  it  square; 
so  they  signed  papers  to  that  effect.  He  was 
out  in  about  a  week  and  was  firing  on  an  extra 
freight  run.  The  engineer  told  him  to  drop 
the  damper  soon  after  he  reported  the  first 


THE  COUNTBY  BOT 


117 


morning,  and  Jap  looked  up  about  the  steam 
gauge  until  the  engineer  showed  him  where 
and  after  a  brief  discussion  betw^een  the  two, 
Jap  confessed  that  he  had  never  fired  before. 
But  the  engineer  liked  his  nerve  so  he  kept  him. 


He  fired  about  six  WTeks  and  was  given  an 
extra  engine  to  run.  So  heavy  was  the  wheat 
crop  in  the  uj^per  country  that  within  a  year 
Jap  was  running  a  yard  engine  in  a  Tacoma 
yard ;  a  most  important  position.  They  had  a 
yard  speed  limit  in  Tacoma  when  Jap  hit 
town,     but    none    afterward.     He    switched 


118  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

cars  at  forty  miles  an  hour  and  never  broke  a 
draw  head,  though  he  did  break  a  few  Hnks. 
There  was  nothing  for  the  other  four  engines 
to  do,  so  they  laid  them  off  and  the  news  went 
all  over  the  country.  The  officials  of  the 
road  came  and  saw  from  the  high  bluffs  the 
work  of  this  phenomenon  below.  The  yard 
master  complained  and  the  officials  said  he 
hadn't  hurt  anything.  "Keep  out  of  the  way 
and  let  him  run.  He  is  doing  the  work  of 
four  engines  and  crews."  It  was  true  he  used 
up  a  car  load  of  sand  each  day  on  the  track 
as  he  approached  cars,  but  cars  were  never 
kicked  as  he  was  kicking  them.  Combination- 
fly  switches  had  never  been  invented  in  other 
yards  that  he  w^as  using.  The  oldest  and 
toughest  freight  brakeman  jumped  out  of  his 
cab  every  day  though  he  never  cracked  a 
bumper.  In  fact,  children  could  have  coupled 
them  for  him.  He  made  combination  switches 
that  curled  some  people's  hair,  but  his  stayed 
straight.  Papers  wrote  editorials  about  him 
and  cheap  actors  made  puns  on  him  at  the 
vaudeville  shows.  When  Mr.  Palmer  heard 
of  Jap's  poi^ularity  he  said,  "Just  wait  and 
give  him  time."     When  my  vacation  came  I 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  119 

went  to  Tacoma  just  to  see  his  work  and 
though  he  didn't  know  where  the  steam  got 
into  the  cyHnders  or  where  it  got  out,  he 
certainly  put  up  the  hottest  game  in  the  rail- 
road way  anyone  ever  saw.  His  duty  in  the 
morning  was  to  follow  the  overland  up, 
through  the  long  yard  to  the  upper  depot  and 
if  the  traffic  was  not  heavy  there  he  would  hitch 
on  to  the  rear  coach  and  haul  her  hack,  but  the 
last  time  Jap  hitched  on  there  wasn't  anything 
to  come  back.  One  foggy  morning  he 
thought  the  passenger  had  time  to  get  up  so 
he  was  just  chj^ping  along  about  "forty-five 
per,"  laughing  with  his  brakeman  and  his  fire- 
man, watching  the  thick  fog  part  and  go  on 
either  side  of  his  engine,  when  all  at  once  he 
saw  the  rear  of  a  Pullman.  The  train  had 
stopped  for  something  and  the  flagman 
hadn't  gone  back.  It  didn't  give  Jap  as 
long  as  he  would  like  to  haye  had  to  make  up 
his  mind.  He  shut  off,  reversed  and  pulled 
her  wide  open  and  then  jumped  out  the  win- 
dow. They  were  on  a  high  trestle  at  the  time. 
The  engine  went  through  two  cars  before  it 
thought  of  starting  back,  then  it  pulled  out 
sticking  to  the  track.     It  fairly  howled  as  it 


120  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

tore  down  through  the  Tacoma  yards  with  its 
broken  whistle  and  smokestack.  They  had 
changed  some  switches  behind  them  and  one 
was  on  a  track  that  had  a  fine  line  of  observa- 
tion coaches  that  were  waiting  for  the  summer 
trade.  It  didn't  do  much  to  them;  there 
wasn't  enough  left  of  them  to  tell  w^hether  they 
were  made  at  Dover,  N.  J.,  or  Pullman,  111. 
From  there  she  went  across  the  turn  table  into 
the  roundhouse  and  out  through  the  brick 
walls  into  the  Puget  Sound  where  she  cooled 
down,  and  they  are  still  figuring  on  the  cost 
of  the  trip.  As  for  Jap  himself,  on  the  fall 
he  got  mixed  badly  and  lost  an  arm  and  a  leg 
by  compound  fractures.  His  men  escaped 
with  less  injury  but  it  didn't  stop  him;  he  got 
a  tricycle  that  he  lives  on,  and  in  Tacoma  you 
will  see  the  sign — it's  popular  with  the  rail- 
road men — it  reads,  "Jap  Libby,  Railroad 
Cigar  Store." 

A  long  spell  passed  and  we  didn't  do  much 
in  Silverton  outside  of  enjoying  each  other  and 
discussing  neighbors.  The  town  got  to  mak- 
ing improvements  after  months  of  public 
speaking  and  debates.  We  finally  got  a  city 
water  works,  and  it  seemed  we  used  to  use  the 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  121 

hose  nearly  all  the  time.  I  washed  the  streets 
from  morning  till  it  was  too  dark  to  see  the 
stream.  We  caused  a  few  runaways,  but  that 
had  to  be  expected;  we  couldn't  stay  old- 
fashioned  just  to  suit  the  farmers  with  shy 
teams.  Silverton  had  most  everything  from 
a  Good  Templar's  lodge  to  a  bank.  The 
bankers  in  Silverton  were  rather  unusual  as 
they  didn't  look  like  the  bankers  at  Salem. 
And  the  fact  of  Jake  JNIcClaine  in  that  bank- 
ing firm  made  the  name  of  Coolidge  &  JNIc- 
Claine,  Bankers,  the  greatest  banking  institu- 
tion in  the  world  by  a  big  wide  margin;  that 
is,  if  you  count  all  the  deeds  that  bankers  do, 
both  in  and  out  of  the  bank.  The}^  were  poor 
yomig  men  when  they  stopped  their  covered 
wagons  on  the  banks  of  a  stream  called  Silver 
Creek,  and  began  to  look  around  for  better 
country.  They  made  a  few  short  rides  around 
the  valley  and  mountains,  but  they  came  back 
and  finally  settled  and  called  the  settlement 
Silverton,  and  finally  people  stopped  there 
and  took  corner  lots  without  crowding.  These 
men  were  great  w^orkers  and  knew  the  art  of 
saving.  They  bought  the  first  crop  of  calves 
in   their  neighborhood  and   kept   them   until 


122 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


they  grew  up,  and  then  sold  them  for  big 
prices.  They  got  hold  of  a  set  of  burrs  and 
started  a  grist  mill.     They  opened  a  store, 


they  looked  at  busmess  opportunities  from  the 
same  focus  and  in  a  few  years  they  had 
actually   loaned   money.     There    were    many 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  123 

strange  parts  of  their  partnership  but  the 
strangest  part  was  that  the  men  were  so 
different,  yet  they  got  on  so  well.  They 
were  as  different,  as  night  and  day.  Ai 
Coolidge  was  the  elder  and  likely  the  greater 
money-maker  of  the  two,  but  he  didn't  get  as 
much  out  of  life  as  his  partner  though  he  had 
lived  many  years  longer.  Ai  Coolidge  never 
made  any  bad  bargains,  never  took  much 
counterfeit  money  or  never  took  many  chances. 
Never  even  gave  himself  many  vacations, 
other  than  now  and  then  a  camping  trip  or 
a  horseback  ride  into  the  mountains  to  salt 
the  cattle.  On  those  trips  he  ^\4iittled  at  a 
piece  of  jerked  venison  and  enjoyed  life  as 
much  as  it  was  ever  intended  he  should.  His 
perfect  wife  was  happiness  enough  for  a  man 
to  enjoy  and  likely  in  her  company  he  found 
full  value,  but  his  sympathies  were  never 
played  on  like  those  of  Jake  [McClaine.  The 
two  partners  must  have  ridden  horseback  half 
of  their  lives,  though  it  wasn't  a  range 
country.  They  figured  interest  on  horseback, 
though  they  never  kept  a  book  of  the  firm's 
business,  which  was  rather  unique;  but  they 
soon  began  to  acquire  farms,  as  they  loaned 


124 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


money  from  ten  per  cent  u^^  and  they  enjoyed 
giving  the  closest  attention  to  those  farms.  I 
used  to  ride  with  them  on  a  pony  and  some- 
times behind  one  or  the  other  on  the  same 


horse,  and  I  have  seen  them  ride  for  hours 
without  saying  a  word  to  each  other.  They 
each  had  a  dog  and  each  found  fault  with  the 
other's  dog.  Jake  McClaine  had  a  keen  sense 
of  humor  and  he  continuall}'  exercised  it  on 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  125 

his  more  thoughtful  partner.  One  day  when 
we  were  at  the  Spooner  place,  Jake  kept 
yelling  at  Ai's  dog.  Every  moment  or  two 
Jake  would  yell  in  a  clear  voice,  that  echoed 
in  Drift  Creek  Canon,  "Here,  come  back!" 
then  turning  to  his  partner,  he'd  say,  "Ai,  why 
don't  you  make  that  dog  come  back?"  Ai 
rode  along,  never  paying  the  slightest  atten- 
tion. Strangety  enough,  each  dog  would 
obey  his  master,  but  wouldn't  pa}^  any  atten- 
tion to  the  orders  of  the  other.  Finally  Ai's 
dog  chased  a  steer  for  ten  minutes  and  Jake 
cursed  and  called,  but  the  dog  kept  on. 
Finally  IMcClaine  turned  to  Ai,  demanded 
that  he  make  his  dog  mind;  whereupon,  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  Coolidge  said,  "I'll  give 
him  to  you,  you  make  him  mind."  Coolidge's 
dog  had  been  caught  in  a  steel  trap  when  he 
was  a  small  pup  and  had  one  toe  missing  on  a 
forefoot.  The  dog  w^ould  travel  all  day  on 
three  legs  and  did,  all  the  balance  of  his  life, 
except  when  he  saw  a  squirrel,  then  he  seemed 
to  forget  all  about  his  once  sore  foot  and  ran 
like  any  other  dog,  and  this  was  an  opportunity 
for  Jake  JMcClaine,  as  he  would  argue  with 
his  silent  partner  for  fifteen  minutes  at  a  time 


126  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

why  Coolidge  didn't  make  his  dog  walk  on 
four  legs,  instead  of  three,  whether  there 
were  any  squirrels  in  sight  or  not.  But  I 
think  Coolidge  rather  enjoyed  Uncle  Jake  as 
a  clown,  as  he  rode  miles  without  ever  making 
a  reply  to  any  of  his  talk.  Jake  McClaine 
had  a  bay  mare  and  she  and  his  shepherd  dog 
Prince  were  steady  companions  during  that 
middle  portion  of  life  and  early  latter  portion 
that  is  so  important  to  all  mankind.  Jake 
McClaine  made  the  best  chief  marshal  at  the 
Fourth  of  July  parade  of  anybody  around ;  in 
fact,  you  put  a  red  or  blue  sash  around  him 
and  he  looked  like  a  Greek  god.  His  beard 
hung  in  ringlets  like  ancient  Homer's;  his 
clothes  were  worn  with  the  most  artistic 
careless  swing  imaginable,  but  there  was  some- 
thing more  to  Jake  McClaine  than  artistically 
hung  clothes,  something  more  than  any  other 
banker  in  the  world.  True,  he  would  take 
advantage  of  you  in  money  matters  the  same 
as  other  bankers;  he  would  squeeze  money  till 
it  got  slick  and  shiny  and  to  avoid  argument 
I  can  say  that  he  had  perhaps  all  the  small 
business  ways  of  great  financiers;  but  there 
was  another  side  to  him,  another  Jake  ]\Ic- 


THE  COUNTRY^  BOY 


127 


Claine,  who  lived 
in  the  same  house 
with  the  banker, 
and  with  that 
Jake  McClaine 
there  were  no 
partners,  and  no- 
body ever  asked 
to  be  his  partner. 
Few,  if  any,  were 
capable.  I  never 
saw  a  funeral 
pass  through  Sil- 
verton  that  Jake 
McClaine  didn't 
ride  his  bay  mare 
at  the  head  of  the 
procession,  and  I  heard  of  one  passing  through 
town  where  he  rode  at  the  head  that  I  was 
unfortunate  enough  not  to  see.  They  were 
the  only  times  he  ever  grew  very  serious; 
no  one  ever  died  in  the  vicinity  but  what 
Jake  IMcClaine  was  there  when  they  needed 
help.  If  they  were  poor  or  ™h  or  just 
well  to  do,  he  took  complete  charge;  made 
the  arrangements  for  the  funeral  and  rode 


128  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

ahead  and  let  down  the  gaps  in  the  rail 
fences  and  whether  the  funeral  was  over  a 
fellow  pioneer  or  someone's  hired  man,  with 
bare  head,  with  his  white  curly  hair  and  beard, 
he  looked  as  fine  a  type  of  just  plain  man  as 
you  ever  saw.  I  never  saw  him  look  worried 
only  once  at  the  graveyard,  and  that  was  the 
first  year  the  band  tried  to  play  at  Decoration 
Day  exercises.  The  graveyard  hadn't  been 
running  long  and  there  was  only  one  soldier 
buried  there,  but  the  G.  A.  R.  wanted  to  re- 
member him,  so  the  band  and  Uncle  Jake  went 
there  with  the  big  parade  just  as  if  the  grave- 
yard was  full  of  soldiers.  Jake  rode  the  bay 
mare  ahead  of  the  procession  as  usual.  Part 
of  the  band  lived  in  the  country  and  didn't 
get  into  town  to  practice  as  much  as  they 
should.  We  had  just  got  some  new  music 
and  among  it  was  a  funeral  dirge,  the  first 
ever  brought  out  there.  It  was  No.  21  in  the 
new  book.  The  country  members  were  late 
getting  in  and  the  big  rush  and  the  few  stiff 
beards  at  the  barber  shop  put  them  still  later 
getting  to  the  band  hall,  where  the  procession 
was  to  form  and  march  to  the  church.     They 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  129 

came  finally,  out  of  breath,  and  we  were  half 
an  hour  late,  so  we  went  to  the  church  on 
double  quick  march,  backed  up  to  the  church 
solemnly  and  started  for  the  graveyard  down 
below  town.  No.  21  in  the  old  book  happened 
to  be  our  favorite  quickstep,  so  when  the 
leader  yelled  No.  21,  the  town  members  turned 
to  the  dirge  and  the  countries  turned  to  the 
quickstep.  We  had  been  playing  about  half 
a  mile  when  I  noticed  there  was  something 
wrong;  we  didn't  just  seem  to  swing  right. 
It  was  hard  for  some  of  the  old  soldiers  to 
keep  step.  At  the  graveyard  there  was  a  big 
crowd  waiting  and  me  playing  the  snare 
drum,  which  was  muffled  in  black.  I  could 
look  around,  and  I  saw  by  the  expression  of 
Jake  McClaine's  face  that  there  was  something 
wrong.  We  were  game,  though,  and  played 
right  up  until  we  surrounded  the  grave,  and 
stopped.  There  were  two  bass  players,  one 
from  town  and  one  from  the  hills,  and  they 
made  a  peculiar  contrast.  Nobody  mentioned 
it,  but  the  joke  w^as  out  and  an  old  soldier  with 
a  wooden  leg  said  to  Jake,  "No  wonder  I 
couldn't  keep  step,  when  I  used  to  in  the  army 


130  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

without  any  trouble."  Jake  McClaine  said  to 
him  in  a  low  voice,  "Keep  step !  I  nearly  fell 
off  my  mare." 

The  average  winter  weather  of  Oregon  is 
very  rainy,  while  as  a  rule  the  cold  is  not  the 
most  severe  by  any  means.  But  the  worst 
night  I  ever  saw,  I  saw  in  Silverton.  Father 
and  I  were  sitting  by  the  fire  listening  to  a 
tearing  and  howling  storm  one  night  about 
nine  o'clock.  We  were  feeling  comfortable 
as  we  knew  all  of  our  stock,  which  wasn't  large, 
were  in  under  comfortable  sheds.  We  were 
getting  ready  for  bed,  and  wondering  whether 
the  storm  would  tear  the  chimney  off  the  house 
or  not,  when  I  heard  a  slam  of  our  barn  door. 
I  knew  if  father  heard  it  he  would  make  me 
go  out  and  fasten  it,  notwithstanding  the 
storm,  which  had  me  completely  cowed,  but 
father  wasn't  afraid  of  the  dark  howling 
nights  and  I  knew  it,  so  about  every  time  I 
thought  the  door  would  slam,  and  I  had  it 
pretty  well  timed,  I  would  clear  up  my  throat 
and  was  stalling  it  off  in  fine  shape,  till  father 
engaged  me  in  a  conversation  by  asking  me 
what  was  the  matter  with  my  throat  anyway, 
and  when  I  went  to  tell  him  the  door  slammed. 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  131 

and  sure  enough  he  heard  it.  His  eyes 
sparkled  as  he  straightened  up  in  his  chair 
alert.  "There,  Homer,  that's  the  barn  door, 
and  as  awful  as  this  storm  is,  we  must  get  out 
to  the  barn  and  tie  it  shut,  or  this  wind  will 
tear  it  off  its  hinges  in  less  than  an  hour. 
And  what's  more,  such  a  storm  as  this 
might  tear  the  roof  off  the  barn,  if  it  gets 
under  it.  It's  the  worst  storm  I  have  ever 
seen  in  Oregon."  There  was  nothing  to 
do  but  put  on  all  the  rubber  clothes  we 
could  find,  tie  them,  and  take  a  lantern  and 
start  for  the  barn,  some  fifty  yards  from  the 
house. 

We  held  on  to  each  other  for  protection,  the 
light  going  out  with  almost  the  first  awful 
crash  of  the  storm.  We  hung  on  to  each  other 
for  dear  life,  and  bunted  against  a  turkey  and 
some  chickens.  They  had  been  blown  out  of 
the  trees  where  they  were  roosting,  and  w^ere 
groping  about  on  the  ground.  We  reached 
the  barn,  got  inside  and  stood  for  a  moment 
almost  exhausted,  and  drenched  to  the  skin. 

We  noticed  that  there  wasn't  a  light  streak 
anywhere  in  the  sky.  We  relit  the  lantern, 
for  it  w  as  as  black  as  pitch,  and  the  roar  of  the 


132  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

storm  as  it  tore  past  was  something  awful  to 
hear.  It  had  that  effect  that  night  air  and 
rain  sometimes  have  of  making  the  brave  fear. 
It  was  just  the  night  that  would  cause  the 
bravest  of  men  to  shudder  and  quiver  like  a 
leaf.  We  got  hold  of  the  slamming  upstairs 
barn  door,  and  held  it  fast  as  it  slammed  shut 
with  the  noise  of  a  cannon.  After  tying  it 
safely,  we  delayed  before  starting  back  to  the 
house.  We  wished  our  bed  and  dry  clothes 
WTre  there  in  the  barn  so  that  we  could  stay  all 
night.  We  looked  at  the  cows  and  horses,  all 
showing  fear,  as  they  listened  to  the  storm. 
We  were  so  cold  we  had  to  start. 

We  couldn't  make  a  mad  dash,  because  in 
the  fury  of  the  storm  and  the  absolute  black- 
ness of  the  night,  we  couldn't  keep  our  bear- 
ings and  were  liable  to  hit  a  tree.  Father 
suggested  that  we  go  back  through  the  barn- 
yard to  the  street,  then  hold  to  the  fence  along 
the  sidewalk  to  the  house,  which  we  did. 
Through  some  miracle  the  lantern  stayed  lit. 
We  had  just  reached  the  sidewalk  and  were 
feeling  our  way  toward  the  house,  when  a  dog 
came  into  the  dim  glow  of  the  lantern  and 
shook  himself.     It  was  old  Prince,  Jake  JNIc- 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


133 


Claine's  dog.     ^'That's  strange,"  said  father, 
*'as  he  is  never  away  from  Jake." 


Just  at  that  moment  through  a  lull  of  the 
noise  of  the  dreadful  niffht,  Jake  McClaine 


134  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

yelled  at  us.  We  couldn't  see  him  although 
he  was  as  near  as  he  could  ride  the  bay  mare, 
owing  to  the  four-foot  walk.  We  yelled, 
"Where  have  you  been?"  He  said  in  return 
he  had  been  to  Salem  to  see  Bush  (the  banker 
there).  "Drove  out,"  said  he;  "got  back  at 
dark,  was  wet  through  anyway  and  my  hired 
man  said  that  over  town  they  believed  the 
Hults  up  near  Cedar  Camp  were  all  down 
with  diphtheria.  And  I  got  to  thinking  maybe 
they  needed  help,  so  I  had  the  mare  saddled 
and  I  am  going  up." 

"Jake,"  my  father  called,  "are  you  crazy? 
Have  you  lost  your  wits  entirely?  Don't  you 
know  that  when  you  get  into  the  live  timber 
in  the  mountains  you  will  be  struck  every 
twenty  feet  by  flying  limbs?" 

''Well,"  he  said,  "I  have  thought  of  that, 
but  there  is  no  way  to  get  around  that  belt  of 
live  timber,  and  I  thought  as  I  couldn't  see  at 
all,  I  might  take  a  chance  and  dodge  the  best 
I  can,  so  I'll  be  off." 

''Jake,  hold  on."  But  no  answer  came 
from  the  black  night  but  the  howling  storm. 
We  even  waited  a  moment  till  the  sheets  of 
water  seemed  to  shift  till  we  could  call  again, 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


135 


but  no  answer,  and  we  got  into  the  house. 
Father  held  me  by  the  w^et  hand,  and  looked 
me  in  the  eyes  with  the  expression  of  a  wild 


^AJ;^'. 


man  for  fully  a  minute.  We  didn't  speak; 
then  he  said,  "Homer,  I  wonder  if  you  realize 
what  a  night  this  is,  and  what  a  man  such  a 


136  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

man  is."  We  got  off  our  wet  rubbers  and 
coats  and  bundles  and  sat  at  the  warm  oak 
fire  till  nearly  two  o'clock,  talking  of  Jake 
McClaine.  We  thought  of  him  in  this  way: 
he  with  Ai  Coolidge,  have  the  best  houses  in 
all  Silverton,  the  finest,  softest  beds,  with  the 
biggest  and  best  pillows ;  he  has  the  best  things 
to  eat;  the  warmest  fireplace:  he  doesn't  need 
to  work,  yet  he  would  leave  all  that  to  go 
twenty  miles  into  the  mountains  through  an 
eighth-mile  strip  of  big  timber,  off  into  the 
dead  timber,  to  investigate  into  the  health  of 
just  a  family  of  poor  mountain  people  that 
didn't  know  enough  to  move  to  the  valley, 
just  because  the  man  wanted  to  live  like  the 
trapper  and  hunter  that  he  was.  It  was  a  trip 
that  all  the  mone}^  in  the  world  couldn't  have 
hired  me  to  make. 

But  this  wasn't  all  that  gave  us  food  for  talk; 
as  father  says:  "It  was  this  same  Jake  Mc- 
Claine, this  man  with  unkempt  hair  and  beard, 
with  one  pant  leg  in  his  boot  and  the  other  out, 
that  came  when  my  family  was  down  to  death's 
level  with  smallpox,  when  we  lived  in  the  hills ; 
when  neighbors,  yes,  even  relatives,  had  fled 
and  left  me  alone;  when  no  one  came  near  to 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  137 

help  me,  then  this  man  that  we  yelled  to  in  the 
storm,  came  unsolicited  and  came  every  day 
and  stood  to  the  windward  side  of  the  house 
and  asked  after  my  needs.  But,"  said  father 
again,  "I  would  have  done  that  for  him,  al- 
though smallpox  in  those  days  w^as  looked  upon 
as  death  itself.  But  I  w^ouldn't  go  with  Jake 
to-night  if  he  gave  me  all  of  his  money. 
Common  sense  wouldn't  permit  me  to  go  into 
those  mountains  to-night.  It's  only  a  few 
hours  till  morning,  then  I'd  go,  but  not  to- 
night, no  siree!  I  owe  too  much  to  my  own 
family." 

We  really  hated  to  go  to  bed,  it  was  such  a 
pleasure  to  have  such  a  strong  character  so 
forcibly  impressed  upon  our  minds.  INIorning 
came,  the  poor  landscape  looked  bewildered; 
it  had  been  through  an  awful  night.  The 
trees  were  resting,  they  hadn't  had  much  sleep 
and  they  looked  tired  and  worn  out.  The 
streams  were  out  of  their  banks,  and  we  heard 
of  some  bridges  that  w^ere  gone,  down  on  the 
prairie. 

We  were  afraid  we  would  hear  that  Jake's 
body  had  been  found.  We  went  over  to  see 
his  wife  to  see  if  his  horse  had  come  home,  and 


138  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

his  family  were  naturally  as  much  worried 
as  we,  though  no  news  had  come  from  him. 
That  afternoon  Jake  came  from  the  moun- 
tains; he  had  reached  there  just  at  daybreak, 
he  said.  No  one  was  stirring  around  the  log 
cabin;  said  he  called  but  no  one  came.  He 
finally  went  in  and  found  them  all  sick  and 
in  bed.  Hult  asked  him  to  see  about  the  chil- 
dren over  a  few  beds  away  from  his.  He 
said,  "I  ain't  got  them  to  answer  since  yester- 
day some  time.  And  they  ain't  none  of  them 
taken  their  medicine  lately." 

Jake  w^as  looking  them  over  w^hen  he  slowly 
took  his  hat  off.  He  found  that  out  of  the 
large  family,  four  of  the  children  were  dead, 
so  he  came  to  town  after  coffins  and  medicine, 
and  was  soon  on  the  way  back  with  the  doctor. 
Then  next  day  he  came  as  a  funeral  all  by 
himself;  he  had  hitched  his  mare  in  with  Hult's 
mule,  and  as  he  passed  through  town  with  four 
small  coffins  in  the  vehicle  on  his  way  to  the 
graveyard,  most  everybody  joined  him  and 
w^ent  with  him.  Those  were  the  times  when 
Jake  McClaine  didn't  have  a  partner,  no 
matter  how  many  firms  he  was  in. 


CHAPTER  V 

Some  time  after  I  quit  railroading,  I  was 
working  in  a  field,  through  which  the  railroad 
track  ran  on  father's  farm  just  below  Silver- 
ton.  I  was  plowing  this  piece  for  the  first 
time.  Father  came  down  and  looked  on  while 
I  plowed  a  couple  of  rounds;  he  said  to  see 
me  plow  put  him  in  mind  of  an  old  sow  that 
they  used  to  own  in  Ohio.  I  asked  him  why 
I  reminded  him  of  a  pig,  especially  at  plow- 
ing; he  said  the  similarity  was  this,  that  a  sow 
could  root  up  a  field  as  well  as  I  could  plow  it. 

Each  day  when  the  train  came  through,  my 
friend  Palmer,  the  engineer,  would  throw  me 
the  daily  Oregoman,  which  he  had  finished 
reading. 

After  receiving  this  paper,  the  work  w^ould 
be  lighter  during  the  balance  of  the  day  and  it 
eventually  prolonged  the  plowing  until  spring 
came,  and  about  the  only  crop  we  had  was  old 
papers.  While  reading  through  one  of  the 
papers  I  noticed  a  paragraph  saying  that  a  car 

139 


140  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

would  leave  Portland,  Oregon,  on  Wednesday 
night  of  the  following  week — this  was  Fri- 
day— for  Xew  Orleans,  with  a  select  aggrega- 
tion of  sporting  men  from  Portland  to  the 
Dempsey-Fitzsimmons  championship  fight.  I 
read  the  statement  many  times,  and  felt  more 
enthusiastic  after  each  reading;  so  I  went  to 
the  barn  with  the  team,  told  father  it  was  too 
dr}^  to  plow,  and  took  the  next  train  for  Port- 
land. 

When  I  got  to  Portland,  I  went  to  the  pub- 
lisher of  the  Siniday  Mercury,  as  it  was  the 
only  sporting  paper  there;  told  him  I  was  an 
artist  and  wanted  to  go  to  the  big  fight  at 
Xew  Orleans  and  do  him  a  series  of  pictures. 
He  asked  me  how  much  I  would  charge  him, 
and  I  told  him  all  I  wanted  was  my  transpor- 
tation for  the  round  trip.  Ben  Walton  was 
an  enter23rising  man,  and  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  agreed  without  ever  asking  to  see  any  of 
my  art  work,  and  that  fact  alone  made  it  pos- 
sible for  me  to  go.  When  I  found  I  was  really 
going,  I  wTote  to  my  relatives  and  friends  at 
Silverton  of  the  great  trip  I  was  going  to 
take,  and  in  a  couj)le  of  days  my  grandmother 
sent  me  by  express  a  basket  of  roast  chickens. 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  141 

a  half-dozen  pies  and  cakes,  some  hard-boiled 
eggs,  and  an  assortment  of  pickles,  as  a  light 
lunch  to  eat  on  the  train. 

I  was  not  certain  just  where  jS'ew  Orleans 
was  and  as  the  day  approached  when  I  should 
leave,  I  became  very  nervous,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  I  didn't  have  a  dollar  to  start  on  the 
trip  with.  I  hinted  so  strongly  though,  the 
day  I  left,  that  the  publisher  of  the  Mei^cury, 
determined  to  make  the  exj)eriment  a  success, 
gave  me  ten  dollars.  He  had  had  a  banner 
painted  that  I  was  to  present  to  Dempsey  as 
he  came  from  the  ring  victorious.  In  getting 
the  transportation,  he  was  unable  to  get  it  fur- 
ther than  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  and  return; 
but  the  railroad  official,  who  was  T.  W.  Lee, 
afterward  general  passenger  agent  of  the 
Lackawanna  Railroad,  told  me  the  railroad 
company  would  have  the  balance  of  the  trans- 
portation for  me  when  I  reached  Fort  Worth, 
Texas,  which  they  didn't.  Wednesday  night 
the  train  started  over  the  Union  Pacific  Rail- 
road, and  the  carload  of  sports  advertised  in 
advance,  had  dwindled  down  to  one,  myself, 
and  such  a  tame  looking  sport  that  the  com- 
pany decided  they  hadn't  better  send  a  special 


142  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

car,  so  I  sat  up  in  the  smoker  and  tried  to  look 
wise. 

At  Denver  we  had  coupled  on  our  train  a 
carload  of  real  live  sports,  most  of  them  being 
from  San  Francisco.  I  remember  finishing 
the  lunch  the  day  we  left  Denver,  and  when 
we  got  into  New  Mexico  we  struck  a  blizzard, 
and  the  block  system  stopped  us  for  three  days, 
two  days  of  which  we  had  no  food.  And  I 
might  say  at  this  point  that  real  sports  are  not 
good  humored  when  a  train  is  up  to  its  sides 
in  snow,  especially  when  the  buffet  is  empty. 
My  memory  was  that  I  had  hurried  over  the 
lunch  I  had  brought  from  Oregon,  so  I  looked 
through  the  train  and  found  it  in  the  smoking 
car  under  the  seat.  I  invited  the  man  with 
the  biggest  diamonds  to  have  a  bite  with  me, 
and  as  we  struck  the  carcasses  of  the  chickens 
and  got  them  warmed  up  again,  we  went  over 
them  and  over  them  with  much  care  and  com- 
fort. 

Finally  a  snow  plow  came  to  us  and  we  pro- 
ceeded slowly,  arriving  at  Fort  Worth,  Texas, 
Tuesday  evening,  and  the  fight  was  set  for 
the  next  night,  and  as  the  regular  train  would 
not  get  there  in  time,  the  car  of  sports  paid 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  143 

out  $22  each,  making  up  $500  for  a  special. 
Mr.  Frank  Maskey,  the  candy  man  of  San 
Francisco,  he  of  the  large  diamond,  who  had 
appreciated  my  invitation  to  lunch  after  a  fast 
of  two  days,  paid  for  me,  and  we  sped  on  at 
the  rate  of  a  mile  a  minute  and  reached  New 
Orleans  in  time. 

I  put  up  with  the  rest  of  them  at  the  St. 
Charles  Hotel,  and  at  night  went  to  the  fight 
with  a  letter  for  admission  from  the  editor  of 
the  Mercury. 

I  can  describe  the  fight  briefly  by  saying 
that  owing  to  Fitzsimmon's  roughness  and 
general  coarse  bringing  up,  I  never  had  an 
occasion  to  even  unwrap  the  banner  that  cost 
$150.  So  the  next  day  I  traded  it  off  to  a 
colored  boy  for  an  alligator,  thinking  at  the 
time  I  would  exhibit  the  alligator  at  the  small 
towns  on  the  road  the  following  season. 
'Twas  the  first  one  I  had  ever  seen  and  I 
thought  they  were  worth  a  great  deal  of  money 
until  next  dav  the  chambermaid  in  the  St. 
Charles  Hotel  told  me  they  cost  thirty  cents. 

The  next  evening  in  the  hotel  lobby,  Billy 
Vice  of  San  Francisco  came  up  to  me  and 
said,  "Here  is  your  $22;  I  got  the  railroad 


144  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

company  to  refund  the  money,  as  we  paid 
them  for  the  special  and  it  was  their  fault 
the  blizzard  struck  us  " ;  and  besides  it  wouldn't 
be  fair,  as  he  says  he  told  them  most  of  us 
were  newspaper  men.  It  was  like  another 
blizzard  striking  me,  as  I  was  in  the  act  of 
asking  Vice  for  a  quarter  to  get  something 
to  eat,  but  $22  put  me  on  Canal  Street 
right,  mingling  with  the  sports  from  every 
town  in  the  Union.  I  hadn't  gone  far  when 
I  heard  the  cluck  of  a  chicken.  I  turned 
quickly  and  saw  a  nigger  with  two  sacks,  one 
in  each  hand.  I  overtook  him  and  asked  him 
if  they  were  game  chickens ;  he  said  they  were. 
I  then  made  known  to  him  that  I  was  the 
greatest  game  chicken  fancier  that  ever  set 
a  hen,  and  it  w^as  my  intention  to  purchase 
a  choice  lot  before  returning  to  Oregon,  which 
was  to  be  in  two  or  three  days.  He  took  me 
to  his  home,  where  I  examined  several.  I 
asked  him  his  price  and  it  appears  he  saw  me 
counting  my  money,  as  he  told  me  that  being 
I  was  a  visitor  to  New  Orleans,  I  could  have 
the  tw^o  roosters  for  $22.  After  a  sigh,  I 
accepted.  I  took  one  under  each  arm  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  St.  Charles. 


THE  COUNTRY^  BOY  145 

I  had  no  place  to  put  them,  just  had  to 
stand  and  hold  them.  As  it  was  late  at  night 
and  I  had  my  key  in  my  pocket,  I  managed 
to  get  to  ni}^  room  without  being  detected. 
Once  in  my  room,  I  was  compelled  to  remain 
in  the  dark,  as  to  strike  a  light  meant  a  cock 
fight  that  would  arouse  everybody.  So  I  set 
one  rooster  on  the  back  of  a  chair  and  the 
other  on  the  rack  made  to  hold  the  towel,  which 
stood  by  the  washbowl  and  pitcher,  and  with 
as  little  noise  as  possible  I  went  to  bed. 
Before  I  fell  asleep  I  thought  of  the  next 
morning,  which  w^as  fast  approaching;  I  w^as 
afraid  they  might  crow.  I  had  apparently 
just  closed  my  eyes  when  I  was  startled  by 
a  loud  clapping  of  wings,  and  a  shrill  crow 
which  seemed  to  echo  in  every  room  in  the 
hotel.  At  the  same  instant  the  one  that  had 
been  roosting  on  the  chair  back,  flew  full  tilt 
to  the  one  that  had  challenged,  and  before  I 
could  spring  from  the  bed  they  were  fighting 
on  top  of  the  washstand. 

It  was  just  getting  gray  in  the  morning  and 
the  room  was  barely  light,  but  once  together 
the  feathers  flew,  and  before  I  could  reacli 
them  they  had  knocked  down  the  water  pitcher. 


146  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

I  finally  grabbed  and  held  one  rooster, 
while  the  other  one  treed  me  on  the  bed. 
I  was  in  the  most  awful  position  a  fellow  could 
be  placed  in  in  a  strange  hotel,  with  a  Spanish 
gamecock  in  my  arm  treed  on  top  of  the  bed, 
with  the  other  rooster  strutting  around  over 
the  broken  pitcher,  just  dying  to  get  a  bill  hold 
of  my  bare  shins.  I  pressed  the  button  and 
soon  the  bellboy  came,  but  he  couldn't  get  in 
as  I  had  left  the  key  in  the  door  on  the  inside. 
I  tried  to  explain  my  position  over  the  tran- 
som. After  shivering  about  for  an  hour,  I 
thought  of  the  only  scheme  of  letting  them 
fight  until  I  dressed.  Then  I  took  them  to  a 
back  street  and  there  proceeded  to  hold  them 
until  the  afternoon,  when  hunger  drove  me 
back  to  the  hotel.  The  colored  chambermaid 
found  a  bucket  and  a  tub  and  I  put  one  under 
each  and  never  felt  such  relief  in  my  life. 

I  was  getting  pretty  hungry  and  I  was  com- 
pletely broke  save  for  twenty  cents  which  I 
invested  where  it  would  mean  the  most  in 
oyster  soup.  All  at  once  it  dawned  upon  me 
that  I  was  five  hundred  miles  from  where  my 
railroad  transportation  was  available,  and  that 
I  had  a  hotel  bill  yet  to  pay,  and  like  a  fool 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  147 

had  paid  out  my  last  dollar  for  two  of  the 
spunkiest  gamecocks  I  ever  saw.  One  of 
them  would  keep  a  man  busy,  w^hile  two  kept 
me  up  night  and  day,  and  threatened  me  with 
insanity,  or  something  worse.  I  happened  to 
recall  that  my  friend  the  publisher,  as  the 
train  pulled  out  of  Portland,  had  yelled  to  me 
something  like  this :  "If  you  get  broke  down 
there,  draw  on  me."  So  I  went  to  a  bank  and 
told  the  cashier  I  wanted  to  draw  on  Ben  Wat- 
son of  Portland,  Oregon,  for  $50.  "Well," 
said  the  cashier,  "where  is  your  identification?" 
"Who?"  I  said.  "Where  are  your  letters  of 
credit;  wdio  identifies  you?"  "Oh,  no  one;  I 
don't  know  anyone  in  New  Orleans  but  Jack 
Dempsey,  and  he  is  confined  to  his  room."  All 
of  my  friends,  the  sports,  had  left  for  home 
while  I  was  walking  the  back  streets  with  a 
rooster  under  each  arm. 

"Well,"  said  the  cashier,  "why  don't  you 
draw  on  him  for  $500?  It  will  be  just  as  easy 
as  drawing  on  him  for  $50,  if  you  don't  know^ 
anyone  here,  and  have  no  letters  of  credit,  not 
even  a  letter  of  introduction;  I'd  draw  on  him 
for  $5,000,  if  I  could  find  a  cashier  that  was 
right.     The  best  tiling  you  can  do  is  to  step  out 


148  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

of  line  and  go  outside  and  draw  a  big  full 
breath."  I  said,  "What  can  I  do,  I  am  broke." 
"Who  are  you  and  what  do  you  do?  You  are 
evidently  not  a  banker."  "No,"  I  said,  "I 
am  an  artist  sent  here  from  Oregon.  Came 
to  illustrate  the  Dempsey-Fitzsimmons  fight, 
and  I  want  to  get  back  home  with  my  pictures. 
The  man  in  Portland  told  me  if  I  got  broke  to 
draAv  on  him,  so  that  is  why  I  have  come  to  the 
bank." 

I  then  remembered  I  had  a  letter  of  recom- 
mendation from  Sylvester  Pennoyer,  at  that 
time  governor  of  the  State  of  Oregon,  and 
known  to  the  world  at  large  as  Grover 
Cleveland's  particular  friend.  I  let  the  cashier 
look  at  the  letter,  which  said  that  my  father 
was  an  honest  man  and  a  good  and  loyal 
citizen,  and  that  he  hoped  I  would  turn  out  as 
well.  The  cashier  said  that  if  my  father  were 
there  he  could  get  money  on  the  letter,  but  he 
seemed  to  take  an  interest  in  me  and  somehow 
guessed  that  I  hadn't  traveled  much.  I  told 
him  this  was  the  first  trip  and  the  last  I  w^ould 
ever  take.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  took  me  next 
door  to  the  managing  editor  of  one  of  the  lead- 
ing local  papers,  who,  he  said,  was  a  great 


THE  COUNTBY  BOY  149 

believer  in  Governor  Pennoyer,  and  that  was 
my  only  chance  for  getting  any  money.  I 
showed  the  editor  Governor  Pennoyer's  letter 
and  told  him  I  was  almost  starving  in  a  great 
city  like  Xew^  Orleans.  The  editor  looked 
thoughtfully  for  a  moment,  more  thoughtful 
than  editors  generally  look,  then  he  handed  me 
a  blank  draft  and  asked  me  if  I  would  fill  it 
out. 

I  took  the  pen,  asked  him  the  day  of  the 
month  and  I  think  the  year;  he  told  me  and 
then  there  w^as  a  long  pause.  I  had  to  tell 
him  that  I  couldn't  fill  it  out.  He  laughed 
and  said,  "Young  man,  you  just  saved  your 
bacon.  If  you  had  filled  in  that,  I  wouldn't 
have  paid  a  cent.  But,"  he  said,  "I'll  take  a 
chance  for  fifty."  So  the  editor  filled  it  out 
and  I  signed  it  and  he  endorsed  it,  and  the 
bank  cashier  paid  me  $50. 

I  felt  so  thankful  that  I  offered  to  give  the 
editor  one  of  the  roosters  that  I  had  at  the  St. 
Charles,  but  he  declined  with  thanks.  I  bade 
him  an  affectionate  good-bye  and  in  five  hours 
was  aboard  the  train  for  Portland,  Oregon, 
with  an  alligator,  two  gamecocks  and  sketches 
of  a  championshij)  fight,  and  in  five  days  was 


150  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

in  Portland  with  the  sketches  and  game 
chickens,  but  no  alhgator.  The  alhgator, 
when  we  got  to  Denver,  where  it  was  twenty 
below  zero,  refused  to  move  even  a  toe,  so 
thinking  him  frozen  stiff  and  dead,  I  tried  to 
bend  him  and  he  broke  in  two  like  a  brittle 
stick,  and  I  threw  the  pieces  out  the  window. 
The  truth  is  that  had  I  put  him  in  warm  water, 
in  five  minutes  he  would  have  been  swimming, 
but  I  wasn't  as  much  on  alligators  as  I  was  on 
roosters. 

I  got  home  to  Silverton  and  told  my  father 
of  the  great  things  I  had  seen,  the  glorious 
time  I  had  had,  but  father  seemed  to  be  w^orried 
about  something  that  didn't  please  him;  his 
face  bore  an  expression  of  disappointment. 
I  asked  him  what  was  the  matter.  He  said  he 
was  disappointed  to  see  me  come  home  with 
only  two  roosters! 

The  roller-skate  craze  hit  Silverton  just  as 
the  spring-bottom  pants  fad  was  leaving  town. 
It's  funny  how  fashions  vary.  I  remember 
one  spell  in  Silverton  that  w^e  were  having  our 
trousers  cut  with  so  much  spring  on  the  bottom 
that  only  the  end  of  our  toes  were  exposed 
and  six  months  after  that  high  tide  of  spring- 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


151 


bottom  pants  we  wore 
trousers  legs  so  tight 
that  it  was  difficult  for 
some  of  us  to  get  our 
feet  through  them,  and 
it  was  at  the  beginning 
of  the  tight-pants  craze 
that  a  fellow  with  a 
curled  moustache  and  a 
pocket  knife  with  a 
girl's  picture  in  it  and 
fifty  pairs  of  roller 
skates  came  to  Silverton. 
He  started  a  skating 
rink  in  one  of  the  big^ 
vacant  halls  on  Main 
Street,  and  the  first  week 
there  was  standing  room  only.  The  second 
week  about  half  the  skates  were  in  the  shops  for 
repairs  and  several  of  the  town's  best  citizens 
had  hard  work  to  straighten  up.  The  proprie- 
tor of  the  skating  rink  made  a  big  hit  socially. 
He  wore  a  new  brand  of  perfumery  and  re- 
fused to  give  the  receipt,  so  there  was  no  com- 
peting with  him  along  that  line.  The  bottoms 
of  his  trousers  were  not  any  bigger  than  the 


1.52 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


tops  of  his  shoes,  so  he  had  those  of  us  who 
wanted  to  follow  fashion  killed  at  that  junc- 
tion; but  a  few  of  us  got  busy  with  the  local 


tailor  and  we  run  him  pretty  close  on  tight 
pants.  Some  of  us  had  to  grease  our  insteps 
and  heels  to  get  into  them;  but  the  brand  of 
perfume  he  wore,  aside  of  the  bottle  he  had, 
was  evidently  distinct  and  extinct,  and  owing 
to  that  fact  he  was  the  envy  of  the  town. 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


153 


This  skating  rink  had  a  queer  effect  on  the 
town  in  a  general  way ;  it  acted  as  a  sort  of  a 
leveler,  an  equalizer  of  station  and  fashion. 
The  well-to-do  skated  with  the  poor,  the  hand- 
some with  the  homely,  and  the  freckled  with 
the  fair.  It  was  one  general  mix-up  in  which 
there  were  no  favorites.  The  funniest  part  of 
it  was  to  stand  across  the  street  and  listen  on 
Saturday  afternoon.  Above  the  noise  of  the 
town  was  this  general  local  roar  of  the  skates, 
and  as  if  periods  or  punctuations,  the  building 
shook  with  dull 
thuds.  Sometimes 
they  fell  in  clusters, 
others,  one  at  a 
time ;  but  you  didn't 
have  to  w^ait  long  to 
hear  two  or  three 
dull  sounding 
whacks  that  made 
the  windows  rattle 
on  the  upper  story 
of  the  building. 

I  took  two  or 
three  short  dashes 
at  it  morning  and 


154 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


evenings  before  I  went  to  work,  but  they 
proved  unsatisfactory.  So  I  decided  to 
w^ait  until  the  next  Saturday  afternoon,  when 
there  were  going  to  be  some  prizes  given.  I 
went  early  that  afternoon,  fairly  groomed  for 


the  occasion;  I  felt  fit  like  a  trained  athlete. 
I  rented  a  pair  of  No.  10l/4s  and  went  to  work; 
had  been  going  about  an  hour,  when  the  world 
seemed  pretty  serious;  in  fact,  I  had  fallen 
so  often  that  it  had  ceased  to  be  a  joke.  My 
hair  was  slightly  mussed  on  the  back  of  my 
head  and  I  had  seen  about  half  a  dozen  quick 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  155 

flashes  of  fire,  when  I  thought  there  must  be 
some  easier  method.  I  took  a  leave  of  absence 
for  half  an  hour  and  went  over  to  Tuggle's 
place  (he  was  the  biggest  bellied  man  in 
town)  and  borrowed  a  pair  of  his  overalls. 
]\Iy  stepmother  had  sort  of  an  economic 
pillow,  just  one  pillow  that  WTnt  clear  across 
the  bed,  so  in  that  way  you  saved  one  pillow 
slip.  With  that  pillow  and  JNIr.  Tuggle's 
breeches,  I  remember  turning  in  the  rink  door 
with  a  broad  grin.  I  could  see  before  I  put 
on  the  skates  that  I  had  the  game  beaten,  and 
it  was  going  to  be  fun,  too,  as  the  biggest 
crowd  was  there  that  had  ever  been  in  at- 
tendance, and  they  were  getting  pretty  reck- 
less. 

I  lowered  the  pillow  into  the  seat  of  the 
overalls  after  I  had  put  them  on,  and  then 
got  a  boy  to  hold  the  pillow  up  against  my 
back  while  I  put  my  vest  over  it,  and  I  dove 
out  into  the  thick  of  them.  To  my  astonish- 
ment and  a  little  to  my  disgust,  I  didn't  fall. 
I  leaned  back  and  tried  to  fall  once  to  see 
how  it  w^ould  be,  and  I  really  couldn't.  I'd 
been  skating  fifteen  minutes  w^hen  I  did  fall, 
but  fell  forward  and  slammed  mv  hands  on 


156 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


the  floor.     In  a  few  minutes  I  fell  again  for- 
ward and  slammed  my  hands  again.     By  this 

time  that  too  had  ceased 
to  be  a  joke,  as  the 
ends  of  my  fingers  were 
throbbing  as  if  they 
had  hearts  in  them,  and 
they  were  getting 
heavy  to  lug  around, 
when  an  elderly  lady, 
who  had  had  some  trou- 
bles of  her  own  that 
afternoon,  skated  up  to 
me  and  told  me  she 
thought  perhaps  we 
went  at  it  too  fast;  so 
we  were  leaning 
against  the  wall  talking 
over  the  scientific 
points  of  it,  when  I 
gave  the  audience  a 
rare  treat. 

While  leaning  there 

talking,  all  at  once  my 

tosrether,    started    and 


feet,   that   were   close 

rolled  out  toward  the  middle  of  the  room.     I 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


157 


don't  think  I  bent  a  linger,  but  I  fell  exactly 
like  a  tree,  and,  lo  and  behold !  the  pillow  burst. 
It  must  have  been  five  minutes  before  they  got 
through  laughing  all  over  the  house  and  the 


r^^c 


a    ^ 


j^'  '-•> 


-^^ 


better  skaters  were  having  great  fun  swinging 
through  this  "goose  hair."  In  a  few  minutes 
the  feathers  were  so  thick  j^ou  could  hardly 
see,  and  they  followed  in  a  boiling  streak  after 
every  skater.  Finally  the  largest  girl  on  the 
floor,  Lizzie  INIescher,  inhaled  a  feather,  and 


158  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

she  began  to  cough  so  that  the  people  living 
in  the  outskirts  of  the  city  lifted  up  the  win- 
dows and  listened.  We  all  thought  it  was  a 
joke  at  first,  until  we  saw  she  was  black  in  the 
face.  The  strongest  men  in  the  crowd  were 
beating  her  on  the  back  and  rather  luckily  for 
her,  though  unluckily  for  me,  she  finally 
coughed  up  the  feather,  which  hit  and  broke 
one  of  the  biggest  window  panes  in  town,  so 
great  was  the  velocity  with  which  she  let  go  of 
it.  She  didn't  skate  that  afternoon  any  more ; 
she  was  big  and  stout  when  she  got  hold  of  the 
feather,  but  after  she  had  wrestled  with  it  for 
five  seconds,  it  took  a  blacksmith  on  each  side 
of  her  to  steady  her  while  the}^  got  her  out  of 
the  building.  It  was  a  good  thing,  in  a  way, 
as  it  acted  as  a  warning,  so  that  those  who 
still  skated  kept  one  hand  over  their  noses  and 
mouths;  but  the  proprietor  of  the  rink  was 
afraid  they  might  break  more  window  panes, 
so  he  declared  a  recess  of  ten  minutes  while 
they  swej)t  out  the  hall,  and  at  this  point  came 
another  big  laugh,  as  after  three  men  had  been 
sweeping  twenty  minutes  they  hadn't  got  over 
three  feathers  out  into  the  street,  while  a 
wagon  load  remained  in  the  hall.     Some  fel- 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


159 


low  who  had  been  used  to  sweeping  out  stores 
yelled  to  sprinkle  them,  so  they  did;  but  they 
only  quelled  the  big  feathers,  which  amounted 
to  about  half  of  them,  while  the  dangerous 


kind  were  all  up  in  the  air  and  wouldn't  come 
down  to  be  sprinkled,  so  they  had  to  close  the 
rink  for  the  afternoon — what  had  started  as  the 
busiest  afternoon  of  the  season. 


160  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

The  proprietor  of  the  rink  tried  to  collect 
damages  from  father,  and  I  think  there  was  a 
compromise  made.  Bnt  the  skating  rink  had 
one  moral  effect  upon  the  peoj^le  of  Silverton 
that  it  might  never  have  had,  as  the  town  was 
full  of  philosophers,  mathematicians  and 
smart  men,  and  none  of  them  would  have  be- 
lieved if  they  hadn't  seen  it,  that  just  a  little 
wet  feather  could  break  a  pane  of  glass. 

The  next  Fourth  of  July  Silverton  w^as 
down  on  the  bulletin  boards  for  a  celebration, 
and  as  in  all  small  country  towns  on  such 
occasions,  the  village  was  keyed  up  to  its 
highest  pitch.  Long  before  noon  our  barn- 
yard had  commenced  to  fill  with  wagons  and 
hacks  belonging  to  friends  and  relatives  and 
a  few  people  we  owed,  and  among  the  wagons 
I  recognized  that  of  father's  brother,  Uncle 
Ben,  who  lived  up  in  the  Waldo  Hills.  When 
Uncle  Ben  came  to  town,  he  always  put  his 
team  in  our  barn  and  came  into  the  house  to 
joke  and  talk  business,  and  though  he  was  full 
brother  to  my  father.  Uncle  never  ate  with  us 
for  the  simple  reason  that  my  father  ate  plain 
food,  while  Uncle  Ben  didn't  care  to  waste  any 
time  with  anything  but  fancy  cooking.     His 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  161 


wife,  Aunt  Lou,  was  about  the  best  cook  in 
all  that  part  of  the  country,  and  I  suppose 
Uncle  Ben  had  gotten  used  to  eating  her  cook- 
ing and  couldn't  stand  for  anybody  else's;  in 
fact,  it  was  Uncle  Ben's  pride  and  pleasure  on 
state  occasions  to  invite  any  dignitaries  of  the 
day  to  eat  of  Aunt  Lou's  lunch,  and  if  they 
knew  Uncle  Ben's  family  at  all  well,  they  al- 
ways accepted,  as  the  meal  was  one  you  would 
seldom  forget. 

On  this  occasion  Uncle  Ben  drove  into  the 
barnyard,  and  from  the  wagon  in  the  heat  of 
the  sun  he  removed  the  gorgeous  lunch  that  his 
wife  had  been  two  weeks  preparing  and  carried 
it  into  our  wagon  shed.  There  it  lay  quietly 
hid  under  the  seat  of  our  old  buggy,  which 
stood  there  year  after  year,  seldom  being  used 
other  than  that  the  chickens  roosted  on  the  back 
axle.  I  had  been  downtown  early  and  had 
hunted  up  my  friend  Bob  Patton,  the  undis- 
puted champion  sprinter  of  the  county.  We 
searched  in  vain  for  a  foot  race,  but  every 
sprinter  was  shy,  and  I,  as  his  manager,  saw 
that  the  day  was  going  and  we  would  get  no 
race,  so  I  suggested  that  we  take  his  saddle 
horse  and  hitch  to  our  old  buggy  and  drive  to 


162 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


Marquam,  a  village  of  about  forty  inhabitants, 
not  counting  the  town  cows,  some  eight  miles 
below  town,  where  they  were  also  having  a 
celebration.  "All  right,"  said  Bob;  so  w^e 
proceeded. 


We  left  Silverton  about  eleven  o'clock  and 
neglected  to  get  anything  to  eat  as  our  minds 
were  too  much  on  business  and  on  the  way  to 
Marquam,  I,  as  trainer  and  manager,  sug- 
gested that  we  should  have  had  something  to 
eat  but  that  now  we  had  better  postpone  it 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  163 

until  after  we  had  run  the  race,  if  we  got  any. 
We  arrived  at  JNIarquam,  hitched  our  horse 
among  the  trees,  and  circulated  among  the 
farmers  rather  shyly,  suggesting  now  and  then 
in  mild  tones,  a  foot  race.  All  of  the  athletic 
young  men  seemed  to  have  heard  of  Patton 
and  were  not  willing  to  run.  Finally  we 
found  an  old  farmer  who  said  he  had  never 
been  beaten,  and  he  would  not  allow  any  city 
chap  to  bluff  him,  so  after  half  an  hour's  effort 
on  my  part  as  manager,  we  made  the  match: 
one  hundred  yards,  judges  on  the  start  and 
finish,  start  at  the  drop  of  the  hat. 

We  placed  all  our  money,  after  great 
difficulty  and  then  began  preparations  for  the 
race.  The  farmer  was  first  to  show  at  the 
start;  he  had  tied  his  suspenders  around  his 
waist  tightly,  so  that  they  gave  him  the  appear- 
ance of  being  gaunt.  He  had  dampened  his 
long  beard,  that  it  might  not  catch  too  much 
wdnd.  He  had  removed  his  boots,  and  was 
going  to  run  in  his  sock  feet;  his  pants  legs 
having  been  wound  around  his  legs  and 
the  socks  pulled  up  over  them,  giving  him 
a  very  athletic  appearance.  Patton  came  a 
minute  later  with  his  regulation  suit  on,  spiked 


164 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


shoes  and  even  corks  to  hold  in  his  hands.  We 
could  have  collected  the  money  then  and  we 
blamed  ourselves  afterward  for  not  doing  it, 
as  the  farmer  that  was  going  to  run  and  his 


>^^      ^r' 


~-Grm^.. 


backers  all  had  stage  fright,  and  they  delayed 
going  to  the  post,  tiying  to  get  up  some  ex- 
cuse to  quit ;  but  we  preferred  to  run  it  out  in 
true  sportsmanlike  manner. 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  165 

After  a  couple  of  attempts,  the  hat  fell  and 
they  were  off,  and  in  half  a  minute  I  was 
actually  blushing.  The  old  man  had  beaten 
Bob  fifteen  feet,  the  judges  at  the  finish  said, 
and  when  judges  from  the  start  came  up,  they 
said  the  city  chap  had  five  feet  the  better  in 
the  start.  I  thought  they  w^ould  knock  my 
head  and  shoulders  off,  so  great  was  their  ex- 
citement. Bob  used  as  an  excuse  that  a  dog 
had  got  in  front  of  him,  but  that  only  added 
to  the  humiliation,  as  the  dog  out-ran  him 
further  than  the  farmer.  We  gave  up  the 
stakes  and  made  a  bee-line  for  the  buggy, 
crestfallen  and  broke. 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  hunger  that  had  been  hidden  by  the 
excitement  of  the  race  soon  came  to  the  surface 
again,  increased  tenfold,  and  we  were  fairly 
bent  over  with  hunger  and  pain.  Bob  asked 
me  to  go  among  my  friends  and  hint  that  we 
were  broke  and  had  had  no  dinner.  I  did, 
but  it  seemed  we  had  lost  our  friends  with  the 
race. 

I  returned  to  the  vehicle  and  told  Bob  we 
had  better  drive  to  Silverton  as  fast  as  possible, 
where  we  could  get  something  to  eat.  We 
hitched  up  and  were  j^reparing  to  start  home 
when,  in  the  act  of  putting  away  the  halter, 
which  the  horse  had  worn  coming  down,  but 
w^hich  I  was  now  taking  off  and  putting  under 
the  seat,  my  hand  ran  against  a  cool  surface 
and  glanced  off. 

I  looked  under  the  seat-curtain  and  saw  a 
sight  that  I  didn't  soon  forget.  It  was  an 
enormous  dishj^an  of  high  polish,  the  contents 

166 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  167 

of  which  were  concealed  by  a  clean  linen  table- 
cloth over  the  top.  I  lifted  the  cloth,  and 
could  perceive  that  it  was  a  most  bountiful 
dinner.  I  felt  faint  and  weak  and  grabbed 
the  buggy  wheel.  Then  I  called  Patton,  and 
w^hen  he  looked,  his  countenance  changed  from 
that  of  the  humiliated  athlete  to  that  of  a 
victor.  We  thought  it  belonged  to  someone 
on  the  ground,  so  we  lost  no  time  in  driving 
away  with  it. 

We  drove  for  a  mile  and  a  half  to  where  the 
country  road  crossed,  by  way  of  an  old,  covered 
bridge,  a  beautiful  stream  called  Butte  Creek. 
We  halted  at  the  side  of  the  stream,  and  there 
spread  out  this  royal  lunch.  'Twas  the  most 
luxurious  affair  I  have  ever  seen.  There  was 
fully  enough  for  twenty  people, — six  roast 
chickens,  the  most  sumptuous  pies  and  cakes 
imaginable;  biscuits  buttered,  some  with 
preserves  between,  others  w^ith  slices  of 
cheese  and  pickles,  and  there  were  several 
loaves  of  salt  rising  bread.  There  were  tarts 
and  cookies,  sliced  tongue,  pickled  pigs'  feet, 
radishes,  and  about  ten  dozen  hard-boiled  eggs. 
We  spread  it  all  out  on  a  grassy  peninsula, 
and  proceeded  to  devour  it  until  we  fell  into  a 


168 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


stupor.     We  ate  until  our  hands  and  feet  went 
to  sleep. 

It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  we 
mastered  sufficient  energy  to  pack  up  the  re- 


maining carcasses  and  uncut  pies  and  cakes 
and  the  general  debris  that  would  follow  such 
a  meeting. 

We  drove  into  Silverton,  taking  our  time. 
As  we  approached  town  we  met  people  coming 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  169 

away  that  yelled  and  asked  us  how  Ben's  lunch 
was.  Some  of  the  blood  by  that  time  had  got 
back  to  our  brains,  and  we  were  able  to  under- 
stand why  the  horse  pulled  so  heavily  on  the 
way  to  Marquam.  When  we  got  into  town 
we  heard  wild  stories  over  the  abduction  of 
Ben  Davenport's  lunch,  and  that  Ben  had  been 
on  the  warpath,  and  that  it  was  a  good  thing 
for  us  he  had  gone  home,  as  he  had  invited  the 
orator  of  the  day,  the  chief  marshal,  and  a  man 
that  was  running  for  Congress,  to  dine  with 
him,  and  they  had  accepted. 

All  hands  had  proceeded  to  our  barnyard, 
where  they  expected  to  spread  this  great  lunch 
underneath  a  pear-tree  in  the  back  yard;  but, 
to  their  astonishment,  they  found  the  buggy 
wherein  he  had  carefully  concealed  his  treasure 
gone,  no  one  knew  where.  Ben  had  gone  to 
my  father  and  threatened  to  divide  the  family, 
but  father  knew  nothing  of  it.  He  thought 
possibly  I  had  discovered  the  lunch  under  the 
buggy  seat,  and  had  taken  that  as  an  excuse 
to  leave  the  country,  and  in  his  own  heart  felt 
much  relieved;  but  Ben  was  furious.  When 
I  met  father  he  wanted  me  to  explain  at  once, 
and  I  did,  as  I  have  in  this  story,  and  I  think 


170 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


he  believed  me.     But  the  less  I  can  say  about 

Uncle  Ben  the  better. 

I  might  add,  however, 
that  though  he  and  Patton 
live  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood, they  have  never  been 
seen  sitting  on  the  rail- 
fence  talking,  as  sometimes 
neighbors  do.  The  truth 
is,  they  haven't  spoken 
since.  The  ablest  debater 
couldn't  make  Ben  Daven- 
port believe  that  we  didn't 
know  the  lunch  was  under 
the  buggy  seat  when  w^e 
drove  out  of  town. 

Uncle  Ben  was  a  genius 
in  a  way ;  he  was  what  you 
would  call  a  success.  If 
he  owned  a  good  pocket- 
knife  with  a  good  rivet 
that  he  could  snap  the 
blade  back  and  forth  from 
his    finger   to    his    thumb, 

then  if  he  had  an  old  knife  that  looked  good 

but  wasn't,  to  trade  on,  then  he  was  happy. 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  171 

In  some  trade  he  once  got  a  gib  bay  horse 
with  pecuharly  heavy  feet.  He  was  about  the 
finest  looking  horse  anybody  ever  saw.  >  He 
was  sixteen  and  a  half  hands  high,  and  as  well 
made  as  they  could  be  put  up.  But  there  was 
one  mistake  about  him, — he  evidently  wasn't 
intended  to  work,  and  if  you  got  him  to  move 
after  you  put  a  collar  on  him,  you  would  have 
to  haul  him. 

It  was  a  lucky  thing  for  Ben  Davenport  that 
he  got  hold  of  the  bay  horse,  as  most  all  of  the 
property  that  he  accumulated  afterward  was 
directly  or  indirectly  due  to  the  big  bay  horse. 
Everybody  that  came  into  that  part  of  the 
country  owned  him  at  least  a  day,  and  he  put 
several  gypsy  camps  out  of  business.  When- 
ever a  stranger  came  over  the  road.  Uncle  Ben 
had  occasion  to  go  out  with  the  big  bay;  and 
unless  the  man  knew  the  horse  he  couldn't  re- 
sist giving  everything  he  had  for  him,  and  a 
little  to  boot.  After  he  was  traded  off,  Uncle 
alwavs  came  to  the  family  with  a  smile  and 
said:  "Well,  I  have  done  great  business  to- 
day. I've  got  rid  of  old  Broadfoot."  All  of 
our  family  would  plead  with  him  to  stay  rid 
of  him.     He'd  promise  never  to  get  him  back 


172  THE  COUXTBY  BOY 

again ;  but  inside  of  twenty-four  hours,  he  came 
with  just  as  broad  a  smile  and  said,  "Well, 
I've  got  back  the  big  bay."  And  it  was 
through  that  kind  of  operations,  the  rake-off, 
as  it  were,  that  went  to  the  kitty,  that  Uncle 
Ben  got  a  good  financial  start.  He  traded 
and  retraded  the  horse  for  years.  Every  time 
he  passed  out  he  was  called  "Old  Broadfoot," 
and  every  time  he  came  back  he  was  the  "Big 
Bay." 

Silverton  kept  growing  more  and  more,  and 
traveling  men  wdth  bigger  diamonds  began  to 
come  to  town.  I  drew  pictures  for  lots  of  the 
drummers,  and  several  of  them  told  me  they 
sent  to  Paris  every  few  months  to  buy  the 
goods  they  sold  in  Silverton.  They  said  that 
in  Paris  most  everybody  drew  pictures,  and 
that  some  day  they'd  take  me.  I  told  father 
about  their  promise  to  take  me  to  Paris,  but 
he  only  smiled. 

It  seemed  that  I  ought  to  be  doing  some- 
thing. I  was  getting  prett}^  big  for  my  age, 
and  still  there  didn't  seem  to  be  anything  that 
I  was  just  suited  for.  Finally,  McjNIahan's 
circus    came, — a    one-ring    circus, — and    they 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  173 

needed  a  sort  of  a  cheap  clown,  so  I  joined 
them. 

I  heard  from  some  of  the  neighbors  that  it 
looked  bad,  owing  to  father's  standing  in  the 
State  as  a  man,  but  I  went  ahead.  I  learned 
to  snig  the  clown's  song  wliile  standing  on  a 
barrel,  with  brass  band  accompaniment,  and  at 
that  I  did  fairly  well,  if  the  band  played  loud ; 
but  Joe  IMcJNlahan,  the  manager  of  the  circus, 
thought  I  ought  to  do  more,  so  I  tried  the 
spring-board.  They  had  led  up  an  old  ele- 
phant and  a  horse  with  spots  on  him.  All  the 
acrobats  and  tumblers  ran  down  this  steep  in- 
cline and  hit  the  spring-board,  and  w  ent  up  and 
turned  from  one  to  three  somersaults,  going 
over  the  elephant  and  horse,  and  lit  on  a  big 
straw  tick  on  the  other  side.  JNIy  clown  make- 
up consisted  of  a  heavy,  ponderous  stomach, 
also  made  of  straw^  I'd  never  jumped  on  a 
spring-board,  and  no  one  explained  to  me  the 
angles  at  which  it  was  best  to  hit.  I  took  a 
long  run  as  I  hit  the  spring-board.  I  evi- 
dently^ hit  it  too  high  up,  and  instead  of  going 
up  over  the  elephant  and  horse,  I  cushioned 
back  up  the  spring-board,  lit  on  the  back  of  my 


174 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


neck,  and  fell  off  among  the  brass  band.  It 
made  a  tremendous  hit  with  the  audience,  not- 
withstanding that  it  nearly  broke  my  neck. 


They  applauded  and  applauded  until  they  saw 
me  being  helped  into  the  dressing  room. 
It  made  another  clow^n  jealous,  as  he  didn't 


THE  COVNTllY  BOY  175 

do  anything  half  as  funny  that  evening*.  It 
was  some  days  before  I  recovered;  but  in  a 
circus  the}^  use  you  all  the  time.  While  I  was 
laid  up  with  this  stiff  neck,  I  had  to  take  care 
of  the  children  that  belonged  to  a  husband 
and  wife  w^ho  were  trapeze  performers,  and 
every  time  their  act  was  called  somebody  had 
to  mind  the  baby. 

But  somehow  a  fellow  soon  tires  of  circus 
life,  and  I  came  home  and  found  that  my 
drawing  had  improved  some,  as  I  had  made 
lots  of  pictures  in  the  circus.  So,  finally, 
father  thought  I  had  better  go  to  San  Fran- 
cisco, as  he  said  that  was  the  art  center  for  all 
the  United  States.  So,  the  following  winter, 
after  it  had  been  raining  about  a  w^eek,  w^e 
commenced  to  get  ready  for  the  San  Fran- 
cisco trip. 

People  had  been  coming  to  the  house  all 
morning  to  say  good-bye,  and  finally  father 
came  up  from  dow^ntown  carrying  a  valise. 
It  was  really  a  beautiful  valise.  He  explained 
to  me  that  it  was  better  than  these  stiff  dress- 
suit  cases,  as  in  case  it  became  necessary,  I 
could  use  it  as  a  pillow.  On  one  side  of  it 
was  a  scene  in  a  garden,  and  on  the  other  side 


1T6 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


it  showed  the  coast  range  mountains  with  a 
sunset.     The  handles  were  leather,  but  the  rest 


of  it  was  made  of  fine,  thick  cloth  that  looked 
like  carpet. 

It  was  nearly  time   for  us  to  start  when 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


177 


father  thought  perhaps  the  twenty-dollar  gold 
piece  I  was  taking  with  me  had  better  not  be 
carried  in  my 
pants  pocket. 
So,  o  w  i  n  g  to 
certain  differ- 
ences between 
San  Francisco 
and  Silver- 
ton,  they 
thought  it  best 
to  have  me  step 
behind  the  door 
and  take  off  my 
coat  and  vest 
and  shirt  while 
they  put  the 
gold  piece  in  a 
patch  on  my 
underclothes. 
They  sewed 
it  so  that  it 
practically  lay 
on  my  right 
shoulder-blade, 
so  that  by  mov- 


178  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

ing  my  right  arm  I  could  tell  whether  my 
bank  account  was  all  right  or  not. 

Father  was  always  careful  at  figures  and 
accurate  in  calculations,  so  he  figured  in  giving 
me  the  change  I  was  to  have  in  my  pockets,  a 
day's  allowance  extra,  in  case  of  a  washout,  or 
something,  and  finally  we  started  for  the  train. 
All  along  the  streets  were  lined  with  people. 
Silverton,  as  I  was  likely  seeing  it  for  the  last 
time,  looked  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The 
rain  had  dwindled  down  to  a  fine  mist  that 
didn't  amount  to  anything.  The  people  of 
the  town  were  all  smiles.  I  guess  they  looked 
better  to  me  than  I  did  to  them.  It  was  a 
bashful  trip  for  me,  as  I  had  left  a  few  months 
before  to  be  the  artist  on  the  Oregonian  at 
Portland,  and  the  whole  town  went  into  a  half - 
holiday,  and  the  streets  were  decorated.  I 
even  bid  them  good-bye  for  ever;  but  I  was 
fired,  and  came  back  before  some  of  the  flower 
decorations  had  wilted.  Thus  it  got  to  be  a 
joke,  and  naturally  the  people  thought  we  were 
foolish  to  let  father  spend  so  much  money  on 
such  an  uncertain  trail,  and  I  couldn't  blame 
them. 

But  father, — God  bless  him, — he  didn't  com- 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


170 


nient  one  way  or  the  other.     He  just  carried 

the  carpet-bag  and  kept  a  sad  expression  on  his 

face.     But  Silverton  came  out  to  a  man.     The 

blacksmiths  with  their  aprons  on  as  they  Hned 

up  in  front  of  the 

shop    looked    like 

sculptors.      The 

clerks  in  the  stores 

looked   as   good  as 

the    proprietors 

themselves,  and  Ai 

Coolidge  and  Jake 

IMcClaine  lo  oked 

like  the  coast  range 

mountains.      Some 

of   them   made 


% 


father's  chin  quiver  a  little  when  in  their  good 
advice  they  yelled,  as  they  shook  hands: 

"Well,  Homer,  be  a  good  boy  and  stick  to 
it;  don't  ever  come  back!" 

When  we  got  through  the  heart  of  the  town 
into  the  residence  jDortion  between  houses, 
father  looked  me  straight  in  the  eyes  and  said : 

"They  meant  well,  but  it  sounded  a  little 
hard  for  us,  didn't  it?" 

And  no  answer  was  necessary. 


180  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

At  each  gate  we  said  good-bye  to  tlie  women 
of  the  family ;  and  some  of  the  girls  I  had  seen 
traces  of  beauty  in,  now  looked  like  goddesses 
and  queens.  But  their  advice  was  all  about  the 
same.  The  general  tone  was  to  stay  away. 
Finally,  near  the  depot,  one  old  woman  varied 
the  advice  by  saying  to  me,  as  she  shook  hands : 

"Homer,  if  you  fail  this  time,  come  home 
and  give  up  this  here  making  pictures,  and 
help  your  father  work,  as  he's  getting  pretty 
old!" 

Father  went  with  me  to  Woodburn,  ten 
miles  below  Silverton,  where  we  were  to  catcli 
the  main  line  of  the  Southern  Pacific.  There 
we  spent  the  whole  afternoon  waiting  for  the 
California  overland  that  came  about  six  in  the 
evening. 

We  spent  the  time  talking  of  what  I  should 
do  when  I  got  to  San  Francisco;  of  the  great 
sights  I  must  naturally  see,  as  it  was  evidently 
to  be  different  from  Portland. 

Finally  we  had  only  an  hour  more  to  wait 
for  the  train,  and  I  got  to  thinking  of  this — 
that  fabler  had  protected  me  from  hard  labor 
all  of  my  life,  simply  because  it  had  been  my 
mother's  wish  that  I  should  some  day  be  a 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY 


181 


cartoonist.     That  this  same  man  who  had  tried 
to  educate  me  and  who  had  wholly  failed  in 


his    attempt,    still    took    it    good-naturedly; 
I  thought  of  his  kindness  that,  during  sun- 


182  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

shine  and  rain,  sickness  and  good  health,  had 
always  been  just  the  same,  willing  and  obhg- 
ing,  working  hour  after  hour  that  he  might 
enlighten  me  so  that  I  could  avoid  some  things 
that  he  had  learned  through  hard  knocks.  I 
saw  in  him  the  finest  type  of  the  Western 
pioneer  who  had  educated  himself  by  his  own 
efforts,  who  had  come  to  Oregon  in  the  early 
days;  who  had  grown  up  with  the  State;  who 
had  been  identified  wdth  its  very  earliest 
politics;  who  had  risen  in  the  esteem  of  his 
fellow-men  to  a  high  position;  a  man  whose 
honor  had  never  been  questioned;  a  philoso- 
pher, a  mathematician,  a  scientist,  a  poet, — in 
fact,  the  highest  form  of  a  scholar.  He  had 
been  my  champion  against  all  comers  who  be- 
lieved that  I  should  have  done  manual  labor, 
while  he  was  satisfied  if  I  would  only  draw 
pictures. 

I  was  to  leave  this  man  perhaps  forever,  as 
his  features  commenced  to  show  the  letting 
down  of  the  physical  man  that  had  made  him 
so  alert  in  the  years  past. 

Finally  we  looked  do^\^l  the  track  toward 
Portland,  and  we  could  see  the  headlight  on 
the  engine  that  was  to  take  me  away.     We 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  183 

had  been  holding  hands  for  half  an  hour,  and 
we  hadn't  spoken  a  word.  Finally,  turning 
to  me,  he  said: 

"Homer,  I  feel  like  the  old  farmer,  and  I 
guess  you  do,  who  was  on  his  death-bed, 
when  they  sent  for  the  minister.  The  old 
farmer  hadn't  been  a  church  member  in  his 
day,  hadn't  given  much  thought  to  religion  or 
the  hereafter.  When  the  preacher  asked  him 
as  the  family  stood  close  around,  if  he  wouldn't 
like  to  make  his  peace  with  God,  he  said,  'No, 
I  don't  see  as  there  is  any  use,  we  ain't  never 
had  any  fuss.'  " 

So,  as  the  grip  of  our  hands  grew  stronger, 
he  said,  "Homer,  we've  never  had  any  fuss, 
so  we  can  part  peacefully." 

On  the  train  my  valise  attracted  attention, 
and  a  crowd  of  drummers  gathered  around  it. 
They  asked  me  where  I  was  going,  and  I  told 
them  to  San  Francisco.  They  asked  me  where 
I  got  the  valise  and  I  told  them,  and  I  saw 
a  few  of  them  take  down  the  storekeeper's 
name  that  sold  it.  Finally  one  of  them  said, 
after  I  had  told  them  my  name:  "Mr. 
Davenport,  I  don't  think  you  appreciate  the 
opening  there  is  for  you  or  anybody  else  in 


184  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

San  Francisco  with  that  kind  of  a  valise." 
A  few  in  the  car  laughed,  but  at  that  time  I 
didn't  see  the  joke.  Finally  one  of  the  drum- 
mers said  if  I'd  open  and  thej^  got  a  look  in- 
side of  it,  he  could  tell  if  it  was  a  real  one.  He 
said  if  the  colors  came  clear  through  the  cloth, 
it's  real;  if  they  don't,  it's  just  an  imitation. 
So  I  opened  it  and  he  put  his  head  inside  of  it. 
He  said:  "Yes,  it  is  a  real  one;  they  come  all 
the  way  through." 

I  had  never  slept  on  a  train,  so,  after  I 
watched  them  take  down  a  few  berths,  I  went 
to  bed  just  for  the  novelty  of  it,  taking  upper 
eight.  In  the  middle  of  the  night,  a  drummer 
who  had  got  on  the  train  after  I  had  gone  to 
bed,  and  was  going  to  get  off  before  I  would 
be  up  in  the  morning,  said  that  he  would  like 
to  see  that  valise,  if  it  was  not  too  much 
trouble.  So  I  dug  it  from  under  my  pillow 
and  showed  it  to  him  with  the  greatest  of 
pride.  I  remember  the  drummer  said  he  was 
sorry  he  wasn't  going  to  San  Francisco  with 
me,  but  he  said  he  wouldn't  be  there  until  the 
next  week.  I  told  him  I  guessed  I'd  remem- 
ber him  and  should  like  to  see  him. 

The  next  day  across  the  mountains  there 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  185 

were  more  drummers.  Peanut  butchers  were 
now^  selling  oranges  that  had  taken  the  place 
of  apples,  and  already  you  could  notice  quite 
a  California  air.  With  the  assurance  of  how 
well  they  thought  I'd  do  there  and  the  sun- 
shine that  had  taken  the  place  of  rain  in 
Oregon,  I  was  being  a  better  fellow  than  I 
should,  spending  money  more  freely  than  I 
really  needed  to. 

There  w^as  a  gaiety  in  the  smoking-car  that 
I  wasn't  used  to.  The  through  passengers 
were  all  thoroughly  acquainted  with  one  an- 
other, and  the  second  night  I  couldn't  really 
sleep  in  upper  eight.  So  I  was  thinking  how 
great  San  Francisco  would  look,  of  what  art- 
ists I  would  see  there,  and  whether  the  general 
body  of  people  on  the  streets  would  look  so 
different  from  what  they  did  in  Portland.  I 
got  up  before  daylight,  and,  as  the  gray  dawn 
came,  I  could  see  great  streaks  of  yellow 
flowers  out  in  the  fields  we  were  running 
through.  The  atmosphere  was  different,  and 
I  actually  felt  like  an  artist,  if  I  could  only 
draw. 

Finally  the  train  ran  on  to  a  ponderous 
ferry  boat  and  was  ferried  across  a  river  or 


186  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

bay  and  the  closer  we  got  to  San  Francisco, 
the  faster  the  train  ran;  and  as  the  conductor 
came  through  and  gave  each  of  us  a  ferry- 
ticket  to  cross  the  bay  from  Oakland  to  San 
Francisco,  I  saw  that  I  had  spent  the  last  cent 
of  change  father  gave  me, — that  I  had  made 
it  just  a  dead  heat. 

Aside  from  the  twenty-dollar  gold  piece 
in  my  undershirt,  I  was  complete!}^  out. 

I  wanted  to  get  to  the  Murphy  Building, 
in  which  building  we  had  some  friends  living. 
A  drummer  put  me  on  a  car  as  it  stood  on 
the  turn-table  at  the  foot  of  Market  Street. 
As  this  car  rolled  off  the  turn-table,  I  saw  what 
a  peculiar  position  I  was  in  financially. 
When  the  conductor  came  for  the  fare,  I  told 
him  that  I  had  come  from  Oregon,  that  my 
father  thought  he  gave  me  enough  change  to 
last  until  I  got  to  San  Francisco,  but  that  he 
hadn't.  That  on  my  back,  sewed  in  my 
underclothes,  I  had  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece. 
That  if  he  would  let  me  off  at  the  JSIurphy 
Building,  I  would  get  some  change  there,  and 
pay  him  when  his  car  came  back.  But  he  said 
gruffly:  *'I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt,  after 
a  look  of  your  valise,  that  you  have  money 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  187 

sewed  all  over  your  clothes,  but  the  company 
doesn't  send  us  out  with  buttonhole  shears, 
so  you  will  have  to  get  out  your  money." 

I  told  him  he  could  feel  of  it  on  my  back, 
whereupon  he  did.  Several  passengers  also 
volunteered;  but  I  had  to  get  off  the  car  and, 
owing  to  the  difference  that  San  Francisco 
bore  to  Silverton,  I  lost  several  hours  it  seemed, 
hunting  a  suitable  place  that  I  might  get  to 
this  twenty. 

Finally,  after  I  got  the  twenty,  I  went  back 
and  got  on  another  car  on  the  turn-table,  and 
had  ridden  to  about  the  same  spot,  when  the 
conductor  came  through  and  I  gave  him  my 
money.  He  informed  me  that  they  didn't 
make  change  for  over  five  dollars.  That  I 
would  have  to  get  off  and  have  it  changed. 
It  seemed  that  I  never  would  get  to  the 
Murphy  Building.  I  had  gotten  to  San 
Francisco  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  now  it  was  past  noon,  and  I  hadn't  got 
away  from  the  ferry.  I  lost  more  time  trying 
to  get  change.  Finally  a  man  suggested  that 
I  buy  a  cigar.  I  foolishly  told  him  I  didn't 
smoke,  and  he  suggested  that  I  had  better 
smoke,  even  to  get  my  change. 


188  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

Finally,  with  the  change,  I  again  proceeded 
to  a  car.  This  time  I  got  on  a  blue  car,  told 
the  conductor  I  wanted  to  get  off  at  the 
Murphy  Building.  The  car  rolled  up  JNIarket 
Street  with  the  beautiful  gliding,  soothing 
noise.  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  been  so  im- 
pressed or  bewildered  as  I  was  by  that  ride. 
It  seemed  that  I  rode  hours.  Finally  the  car 
sheered  off  to  the  left  and  came  to  Eucalyptus 
Trees  and  then  to  Scant  Settlement,  and 
finally  to  the  end  of  the  line.  Everybody  got 
off  but  me,  and  the  conductor  said,  "Oh,  yes; 
you  wanted  to  get  off,  didn't  you?" 

I  said:  "Yes,  at  the  Murphy  Building." 
He  said:  "Stay  on  until  we  go  back." 
They  came  in,  the  conductor  and  gripman, 
and  sat  down  and  talked  to  me  of  where  1  had 
come  from.  They  said  they  were  bound  to 
see  a  great  deal  of  me,  especially  the  gripman. 
I  asked  them  how  long  they  thought  it  would 
take  a  fellow  to  learn  the  city,  and  it  seemed 
like  the  truth  when  they  told  me  some  people 
never  learned  it.  Finally  we  started  back 
toward  town.  Strange  and  beautiful  faces 
got  on  the  car,  and  finally  I  was  lost  again  in 
admiration   of  the  heart   of  the   citv,   when 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  189 

everybody  seemed  to  jump  from  the  car  and 
run  for  the  ferryboat,  and  I  noticed  we  were 
back  to  the  turn-table.  The  conductor  came 
through  and  said:  "Oh,  yes;  you  still  want 
to  get  off  at  the  Murphy  Building."  I  said: 
"Yes,  if  I  can  get  there  before  dark  I'd  like 
to;  but  if  I  can't,  transfer  me  to  a  sleeper." 
He  said:  "All  right  now,  set  your  valise  up 
in  your  lap  so  that  when  I  see  it  I  will  know 
you  get  off  at  the  Murphy  Building." 

I  saw  him  look  in  my  direction  once  or  twice, 
and  I  held  the  valise  up  at  him;  but  he  shook 
his  head.  Finally,  just  about  dusk  of  what 
had  been  the  most  strenuous  day  of  all  my 
life,  he  put  me  off  in  front  of  the  JNIurphy 
Building,  and  I  lost  no  time  in  hurrying  in. 

Once  in  the  Murphy  Building  the  elevator 
man  asked  me  first  where  I  wanted  to  go,  and 
I  told  him  to  see  some  people  named  JNlr.  and 
Mrs.  Cline  who  lived  somewhere  on  the  top 
floor.  So  he  took  me  up  in  the  elevator,  kind 
of  showing  off,  I  guess,  by  the  way  he  ran  it, 
as  it  didn't  seem  over  a  second  till  we  were  at 
the  top,  the  sixth  floor;  and  for  fear  some  ac- 
cident might  happen  and  I  would  get  astray, 
he  led  me  to  the  Cline's  very  door. 


190  THE  COUNTRY  BOY 

Once  inside,  a  few  seconds  after  I  had 
rapped,  it  was  all  over.  We  were  home,  and 
in  their  presence  I  felt  safe.  We  visited  for 
two  or  three  hours  as  hard  as  people  ever  visit. 
Night  had  come  but  it  didn't  get  dark.  The 
glare  from  the  street  below  seemed  to  light  us 
up  for  miles.  Finally,  with  their  permission, 
I  went  to  the  front  window  and,  with  my  fore- 
head plastered  against  the  pane,  until  it  had 
stuck,  I  stood  a  good  while  looking  down  on 
Market  Street  below.  It  didn't  seem  possible 
that  I  would  ever  be  able  to  walk  down  there 
alone ;  and,  as  I  watched  the  traffic  coming  and 
going  and  saw  the  first  signs  of  the  real  out- 
side world,  I  thought  and  longed  for  Silverton, 
which  seemed  so  far  away. 


THE  END 


THE  COUNTRY  BOY  191 

WHEN  DAVENPORT'S  IN  SILVERTON. 

(by   JAMES    J.    MONTAGUE.) 

They're  all  awake  in  Silverton,  although  it's  half  past  eight, 
And  gapes  and  yawns  betray  the  fact  that  is  mighty  late; 
The  lamp  is   lit  in  Wolfard's   store,  and   Simeral  and  all 
The  rest  are  tilted  back  in  chairs,  around  the  stove  and  wall. 
Saliva  hisses  on  the  hearth,  and  through  the  open  door 
Come  citizens  and  cats  and  dogs  until  they  fill  the  store; 
And  on  the  street  the  whisper  runs  like  magic  up  and  down : 
"Le's  all  go  up  to  Wolfard's  store,  f'r  Davenport's  in  town." 

Without  a  word  the  old-time  friends  from  almost  everywhere 
Come  dropping  in  and  occupy  each  cracker  box  and  chair ; 
And  though  the  clock  ticks  on  and  on,  until  it's  nearly  ten, 
They  never  stir,  but  hungrily  live  o'er  the  past  again. 
The  time  the  dog — of  worthless  life — was  chucked  inside  a 

sack 
And  dropped  by  night   in   Silver   Creek,  and  came   serenely 

back 
The  time  the  famous  Trombone  Band  won  Silverton  renown, 
Are  all  discussed,  and  all  enjoyed,  when  Davenport's  in  town. 

They  do  not  care  in  Silverton  much  for  the  world  outside, 
They  little  know  this  loved  friend  is  honored  far  and  wide, 
They  do  not  know,  nor  do  they  care,  what  Eastern  people 

say, 
They  only  know  that  Davenport  has  come  to  town  to-day. 
And   sitting  breathless  'round  that  stove  they  listen  to  him 

tell 
About  the  days  before  he  bade  old  Silverton  farewell. 
To  them  it  matters  not  at  all,  if  fate  may  smile  or  frown 
It's  quite  enough  for   Silverton  that  Davenport's  in  town. 


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